


The Fillorian Bride

by LeakingLlama



Category: Princess Bride (1987), The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because of Reasons, Blade Master Fen, Blow Jobs, Brakebills (The Magicians), Canon Queer Relationship, Complicated Relationships, Cunnilingus, Drug Use, Eliot Waugh is a Goddamned Princess and We All Know It, Eliot Waugh's Canonically Huge Dick, F/F, F/M, Fillory (The Magicians), First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Fucking Todd, Gratuitous Smut, Gratuitous use of Skittles in battle magic, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Josh is Miracle Max, M/M, Mutual Pining, NSFW, Now with Extra Relationships!, Oral Sex, Physical Kids Cottage (The Magicians), Princess Bride AU, Princess Bride with Magic and Sex, Queer af - Freeform, Quentin Coldwater Lives, Quentin is brave, Rimming, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Warrior Kady Orloff-Diaz, Women Being Awesome, Women Getting Stabby, queliot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:16:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23168638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeakingLlama/pseuds/LeakingLlama
Summary: Eliot was raised on a small farm in the state of Indiana. This was a secret he had shared with very few people. By the time he had begun his second year at Brakebills University for Magical Pedagogy, Eliot had worked very hard to become the persona he put forth for the world to see. As Eliot put it, “Becoming me was the greatest creative project of my life.” The suave, sophisticated god of hedonism that everyone knew and wished they could be was Eliot’s most elaborate charm, and he wore it well. His favorite past-times were mixing drinks at one of his elaborate parties, and tormenting the newest first-year that lived in the Physical Kids’ Cottage with him. His name was Quentin, but he never called him that.Isn't that a wonderful beginning?
Relationships: Dark King Sebastian/Eliot Waugh, Fen/Kady Orloff-Diaz, Fen/Kady Orloff-Diaz/William "Penny" Adiyodi, Margo Hanson/Josh Hoberman, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh, William "Penny" Adiyodi/Kady Orloff-Diaz
Comments: 19
Kudos: 42





	1. First Year

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is the Princess Bride AU no one asked for but EVERYONE needs. It's got everything: Battle magic, torture, revenge, Magicians, dragons, chases, escapes, true love, miracle drugs...
> 
> I hope to add chapters weekly at the very least. Let me know what you think!

Eliot was raised on a small farm in the state of Indiana. This was a secret he had shared with very few people. By the time he had begun his second year at Brakebills University for Magical Pedagogy, Eliot had worked very hard to become the persona he put forth for the world to see. As Eliot put it, “Becoming me was the greatest creative project of my life.” The suave, sophisticated god of hedonism that everyone knew and wished they could be was Eliot’s most elaborate charm, and he wore it well. His favorite past-times were mixing drinks at one of his elaborate parties, and tormenting the newest first-year that lived in the Physical Kids’ Cottage with him. His name was Quentin, but he never called him that.

Nothing gave Eliot as much pleasure as ordering Quentin around.

“First year, polish my barware. I want to see my face shining in it by morning.”

“As you wish,” said Quentin.

“As you wish,” was all he ever said to him.

“First year,” snapped Eliot, “Fill the cooler with ice for me.” Quentin looked up at him with big, soft eyes. “…please,” finished Eliot.

“As you wish,” stated Quentin.

That day, he was amazed to discover that when Quentin was saying, “As you wish,” what he really meant was, “I love you.” And even more amazing was the day he realized he truly loved him back.

“First year,” spat out a startled Eliot when Quentin brushed past him at the bar. He wasn’t sure why he’d even said it, except that he knew he had to say _something_. Had to _do_ something to make the beautiful little first year stay, just a moment longer. Looking around for some excuse to give him an order, he motioned to a bottle of spiced rum that was a few inches from his elbow. “Get that rum for me?” He said, more of a question than a command.

Quentin locked eyes with Eliot, slowly reached across Eliot’s chest to retrieve the rum, then handed it to him gently, staring up at him through long, thick lashes as he whispered, “As you wish.”

Eliot smiled the most genuine smile Quentin had ever seen, and the next thing he knew, Eliot was leaning down to cup Quentin’s face gently and press their lips together in the softest, sweetest kiss he had ever dared to imagine.

“Ahem.” The moment was interrupted by a small but intimidating figure tapping her nails and giving them an irritated look from across the bar. “Not that I’m not thrilled you two finally pulled your heads out of your asses,” drawled Margo, giving them knowing smirks, “but if you could finish making me my drink before I graduate I’d appreciate it.”

Quentin cleared his throat and ducked his head down, tucking some hair behind his ear and flashing a tight half-smile to nobody in particular as Eliot gracefully poured an electric purple concoction into a frosted glass for Margo, adding a flourish of flame with a snap of his fingers as he cradled it in front of her face. “A thousand apologies, my love,” lilted Eliot as she took the glass from his palm. Margo lifted the glass carefully to her lips, not taking her eyes off of Eliot’s as she sipped. “You’re lucky you’re such a damn good potions master, El. Now get a room, you two,” she grinned as she winked at Eliot and melted back into the crowd.

Which was…honestly not a bad idea. Eliot looked over at Quentin heatedly, who responded with an equally fiery glance. They held each other’s gaze for a few seconds. It was Eliot who spoke first.

“Bedroo…”

“Absolutely.”

Quentin didn’t wait for Eliot to finish the question. Eliot grabbed his hand and led him upstairs, drinks be damned, and into his room, slamming the door behind them.


	2. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin and Eliot "get a room". Quentin dies. The end.
> 
> Or does he...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gratuitous smut. There is much fucking and declarations of love. Then all seemingly goes to shit. You know how the story goes. The adventure begins...

Eliot couldn’t get Quentin’s clothes off fast enough. He was torn between wanting to get the little first year naked beneath him and not wanting to stop kissing him. But, as physics would have it, he had to do one or the other. Eliot pulled back as he quickly ripped Quentin’s shirt off over his head. Quentin fumbled with the buttons on Eliot’s waistcoat as Eliot attacked Quentin’s neck with his mouth, licking along his pulse point and sucking dark marks into the delicate skin. Quentin pushed the waistcoat over Eliot’s shoulders and began to work on the shirt as Eliot’s hands blindly grappled with Quentin’s pants.

“Fuck!” Quentin swore as he flailed his hands in frustration at the ridiculousness of all these buttons. “El,” he panted, Eliot’s head still buried in Quentin’s neck, “El how much do you like this shirt?”

“Fucking hate it,” gritted Eliot.

Quentin ripped Eliot’s shirt open, buttons flying across the room. He threw the shirt over Eliot’s shoulders but instead of taking it off all the way, stopped half way down his arms and pulled the sides closer to him, trapping Eliot’s arms to his side as Quentin pressed himself up to force a heated kiss to Eliot’s mouth, prying it open with his tongue and licking into him ravenously.

“F-f-fucking Christ, Q,” Eliot stuttered as he threw his head back in search of air. Quentin twitched an eyebrow up and shot him a deliciously dirty look before walking him backwards and pushing him down on the bed. Eliot bounced up, curls flying in front of his face as he struggled to get his arms free of his shirt before Quentin crawled on top of him. Quentin knelt over him, straddling his hips as he unzipped his pants. Eliot licked his lips and stared at his hands, open-mouthed and _hungry_ as he watched Quentin pull out his cock and give it a few strokes.

“ _Oh fuck me_ ,” Eliot gasped, low and wanting.

“I was gonna say the same thing,” quipped Q with a smirk as he worked on Eliot’s belt. Eliot’s hands found Q’s hips and began to run up and down the outside of his thighs, his mouth watering at the sight of Quentin’s hard cock bouncing in front of him.

“Fuck, Q, hurry up,” Eliot huffed out, almost delirious with what was happening. Quentin took the hint, scooted down the bed, and roughly pulled Eliot’s pants down to his knees. Eliot kicked them off the rest of the way and Q began to crawl up Eliot’s body, pressing open-mouthed kisses up his legs until he reached the delightfully huge bulge in his underwear. He mouthed along the length of Eliot’s dick for a moment before taking hold of the waistband _with his fucking teeth_ and began pulling them down. Eliot grabbed his own cock and began stroking it, unable to resist while watching the amazingly hot spectacle of Quentin Coldwater peeling his clothes off with his goddamn mouth. Q smoothed his hands up the inside of Eliot’s thighs, then batted El’s hand away and replaced it with his mouth. Eliot yelped as Q sucked the head into his warm mouth, hollowing his cheeks and taking him down as far as he could go (which was surprisingly far, and Eliot shuddered excitedly as he realized that he was not exactly dealing with an amateur). Quentin pushed Eliot’s thighs apart as he settled into a rhythm, bobbing up and down on Eliot’s cock and _moaning_ shamelessly. Eliot threw his head back into the pillows and gasped, mouth frozen open in a half smile, panting and shaking and trying to hold on because _fuck, Quentin knew how to suck a dick_. He was getting dangerously close to coming already and frantically pawed at Quentin’s cheek to let go before it was all over. Quentin came up with a wet “pop” and nodded to show that he understood.

Eliot caught his breath for a moment, but suddenly found himself being muscled over onto his stomach. Quentin pulled on Eliot’s hips to get him up on his knees. Eliot cried out as soft hands spread him apart and an even softer tongue licked a slow stripe over his hole.

“Oh my god, _Quentin_! God you…you fucking…” Eliot stopped himself, unsure if he was crossing a line.

“Slut?” finished Q, biting his lip and looking at him with a devious grin on his face before diving back in.

“ _Fuck._ ” Eliot was trembling as Quentin thrust his tongue into his ass, circling and fucking into him deeper and deeper, licking over him slowly, teasing him with the tip of his tongue, then forcing it back in while Quentin made the most _obscene_ noises. “Goddamnit, Q, yes…god you’re such a fucking filthy little slut oh my god,” Eliot gritted out through clenched teeth as he buried his face into the pillow. Quentin moaned loudly at the words spewing out of Eliot’s mouth, spurring him on to become even dirtier, letting absolutely _disgusting_ things fall from his lips as Quentin ate him out thoroughly.

Quentin finally came up for air, panting – red splotches all down his torso as he looked down at Eliot. “God, El, you’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he breathed, reverently. “ _Jesus_ , baby, I…fucking hell, Eliot, can I fuck you?”

Eliot’s brain tried to reboot. “Uh…um…I uh… _god yes_ …” he managed to get out in shallow breaths. He looked over his shoulder at Q to see him performing the tuts for the lube spell before pressing two slick fingers into Eliot. Eliot whined and let his head fall back down into his chest as Quentin opened him up. He began to push himself back as Quentin scissored his fingers open to stretch him out.

“More, Q,” Eliot sobbed as he fucked himself back onto Quentin’s fingers. Quentin slipped a third finger inside and hooked them down to press against Eliot’s prostate. Eliot whimpered as Quentin grazed against that spot over and over, thrusting his fingers into him and running his other hand around his waist to grab onto his cock, leaking and heavy between his legs. Eliot sobbed as Quentin stroked him in time to his thrusts.

“Please, Q… _gods, please_ ,” Eliot begged. “Goddamnit Q if you don’t put your dick inside me right the fuck now I’m gonna lose it…”

Quentin didn’t need Eliot to twist his arm. He pulled his fingers out and replaced them quickly with the head of his cock, pressing up against Eliot’s slick hole, so wet and open for him. Quentin began to push in slowly as he felt the muscle give and stretch around him.

“God, Eliot you feel so fucking good, baby,” Quentin cried as he bottomed out. Eliot groaned as Quentin pushed all the way in, filling him up and stretching him so, _so_ good. Quentin draped himself over Eliot’s back and ran soft fingertips over Eliot’s nipples as he littered his neck and shoulders with warm breaths and hot kisses. Eliot arched into the touch and moaned loudly.

“Please, Q, _move_ ,” he cried as Quentin teased his cock with the palm of his hand. Quentin pulled out slowly, then thrust in hard and fast, pushing out the most pornographic groan from Eliot’s lungs.

“Yeah,” breathed Eliot, already out of his goddamned mind, “Yes, more, _fuck_ , Q, keep going.” Quentin thrust into him at a steady pace, straightening up so he could brace himself on Eliot’s hips as he slammed into him.

“Fuck…fuck…feels…so…fucking…good…El… _god…_ ” Quentin gritted out with every thrust panting and dripping with sweat. He wasn’t going to last long because _dear gods, Eliot felt so amazing around his cock_.

Eliot wasn’t going to last long himself, not with Quentin brushing over his prostate like that on every. single. thrust. Eliot had lost all capacity to form sentences or complete thoughts and just chanted, “ _yeah, yeah, yeah, Q, Q, Quentin…_ ” as he felt his muscles tense. Quentin felt Eliot clench around his cock. He reached down to give Eliot’s cock a few strokes, sending both of them over the edge. Eliot screamed Quentin’s name as long stripes of cum spilled onto the bed in front of him. Quentin’s mouth hung open as he pulsed inside him, grunting out, “El… _Eliot_!” before collapsing down onto Eliot’s back and rolling sideways onto the bed as he pulled out. Eliot’s legs gave out as he starfished facedown on the bed. He could feel Quentin’s cum dripping out of him as he lay there, boneless and blissed out and not giving a single shit about the mess. Quentin raised his head to glance over at Eliot’s ass, muttered, “God that’s hot,” then fell back onto the bed, breathless and spent.

The two lay there side by side for a few minutes, catching their breath. Eventually Eliot managed to perform a quick tut to clean them both up and flipped over onto his back. He grasped Quentin’s hand and pulled him closer. Quentin snuggled into Eliot’s chest and ran his fingers through the soft hair on his pecs, nuzzling his face into Eliot’s shoulder. Eliot pressed him even closer, planted his face into Q’s hair, and breathed in the scent of him. Quentin was warm and soft and smelled like winter and sex and _boy_ and Eliot was positively intoxicated by it.

Quentin broke the silence. “Sooooo…” he said, with a bit of shyness, which was…unnecessary considering Quentin had just fucked Eliot into tomorrow.

“Um…yeah…sooooo…” Eliot echoed, laughing softly.

“So,” Quentin cleared his throat, “Um…I kind of…um…”

Eliot pulled back slightly to look at Quentin softly, encouraging him to finish – letting him know it was ok.

“So I…” Quentin steeled his nerves and looked Eliot straight in the eyes. “I love you.”

Eliot’s vision went dark for a moment.

“I…I love you, El. I’ve loved you for…for a long time, I think. And, um, I don’t know if…I mean, I _hope_ , obviously, that you, um, you know, return the…sentiment, but if…”

Eliot regained his composure and stopped him. “Q.” Eliot took a deep breath. Here goes. _Be brave, El._ _Deep breath in_ …

“I love you, too, Quentin.”

… _breathe out…_

Life flickered behind Quentin’s eyes. _God, those eyes_. Eliot could spend a lifetime falling into those eyes. They couldn’t hide anything. Quentin’s eyes were always so truthful. So sincere. They always told him what Quentin was thinking, even when Q couldn’t.

“Oh,” whispered Quentin, a slight smile creeping up on his lips. “That’s…ok, yeah, um, good. I mean…” _how do you respond to that?_

Eliot came to his aid. “Yeah. Yeah, Q, I do. I…I love you.” It got easier each time. He smiled sincerely at Quentin, this beautiful boy in his arms, so trusting and so soft and so _goddamn hot oh my god_ …

_A few months later…_

The quest didn’t go as planned. Eliot begged Quentin not to go alone. The Fillorian seas were full of pirates, and although they both knew that Quentin’s quest to restore the wellspring had to be continued on his own, he was not happy about it.

“I fear I’ll never see you again,” whispered Eliot as he embraced Quentin one last time before he embarked.

“Of course you will,” Quentin assured him.

“But what if something happens to you?” Eliot trembled, trying to hold back tears.

Quentin placed his hands on either side of Eliot’s face and stared lovingly into his eyes. “Listen, bitch. I will always come for you.”

Eliot nodded faintly. “But how can you be sure?”

“This is true love,” said Quentin. “You think this happens every day?”

With a smile and one last passionate kiss, Quentin boarded the small vessel and Eliot watched as he drifted away on the Fillorian waters. Although the quest to restore the wellspring was completed, Quentin never made it home from his quest. His ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Reynard, who never left captives alive. When Eliot got the news that Quentin was murdered, he went into his room and shut the door, and for days he neither slept nor ate.

He stared blankly at the wall, hollow and broken, as he vowed solemnly, “I will never love again.”


	3. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot goes for a walk. Kady spits rhymes. No one likes Alice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get to see some character voices in this chapter and I hope I'm doing them justice. I know we already know how this story goes, so I promise I will keep it interesting by adding a little more character flavor here and there. Plus, you never know who might show up!

Five years later, the main square outside Castle Whitespire in Fillory was filled as never before to hear the announcement of the great Dark King’s fiancé.

“My people,” the Dark King began, poised above the crowd on a large balcony overlooking the square, “a month from now our country will have its 500th anniversary. On that sundown, I shall marry a man who was once a commoner and, though an Earthling, not unlike yourselves. But perhaps you will not find him common now. Would you like to meet him?”

The Fillorian crowd cheered their affirmation.

“My people,” the Dark King announced, “Prince Eliot.”

Eliot emerged from an entryway leading to a small balcony on a side tower of the castle. His countenance was drawn and his expression hollow. Eliot’s emptiness consumed him. Although the law of the land gave The Dark King the right to choose his husband and wife, Eliot did not love him. Despite The Dark King’s reassurances that he would grow to love him, the only joy he found was in his daily walks, alone, through the Fillorian forests.

On this particular day, Eliot was walking along his usual trail when he encountered three individuals blocking his path. In the middle, in front of the other two, was a short, no-nonsense-looking woman with stick-straight blonde hair and black-rimmed glasses. Behind her stood two other women. On her right was a tall, muscular woman with long, curly, black hair. She looked like someone you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. On her left was a smaller, but no less-fierce-looking brunette holding two knives, poised in a battle stance.

The one in the middle spoke to him. “A word, my lord. We’re…um…box stackers…we work with a very prestigious radish smugg…uh, _trading_ company. Our cargo ship, captained by the famed Captain Hops, was shipwrecked off the coast of Fillory and we are in need of help. Is there a village nearby?”

“There is nothing nearby,” said Eliot with a sigh, “not for miles.”

The woman looked at her companions, and the trio began advancing on Eliot. “Then there will be no one to hear you scream…”

Eliot attempted to turn and run but was stopped by the knife-wielding woman. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced the taller woman performing what looked like a complex tut. She suddenly clasped her hands and pushed her palms toward him, releasing a powerful ball of energy directly at his chest, and then…darkness.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

When Eliot awoke, his head was pounding. His limbs felt so heavy he could barely move them. He fluttered his eyes open and glanced around to find himself in the hull of a small boat. Bits and pieces of conversation began to waft toward him and he regained his senses.

“What is that you’re ripping?” came a bright and curious female voice.

“It’s fabric from the uniform of an army officer of Loria.” Eliot recognized the voice of the woman who had stopped him in the forest.

“Who’s Loria?” Eliot realized this voice came from the taller woman who had apparently hit him with some pretty powerful battle magic.

The blonde woman rolled her eyes. “The country across the sea, who has become the sworn enemy of Fillory.” She finished folding the fabric and performed a tut to send it fluttering like a bird through the air. “Go,” she whispered to it.

She turned back and began walking toward the boat. “Once that reaches the castle, the fabric will make the Dark King suspect the Lorians have abducted his love. When he finds his body dead on the Lorian frontier, his suspicions will be totally confirmed.”

The taller one spoke up. “Whoa wait, what the fuck? You never said anything about killing anyone.”

The blonde woman rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’ve hired you to help me start a war. It’s a prestigious line of work, with a long and glorious tradition.”

She turned and continued toward the boat. The dark-haired woman shot her a suspicious look and spoke again. “I just don’t think it’s right, killing an innocent boy.”

The blonde stopped in her tracks and turned sharply, shooting eye-daggers at the taller woman. She twitched her head ever-so-slightly, which Eliot found…odd…”Am I going absolutely fucking _crazy_ , or did the word ‘think’ escape your lips?” She stepped closer to the tall woman and stared her down, raising her voice. “You were NOT hired for your brains, you fucking hedge-bitch!”

Suddenly the smaller brunette piped up. “I agree with Kady!” she said, a bit hesitantly.

The blonde woman turned to face her new challenger. “Oh, the Fillorian farm girl has spoken! What happens to him is not truly your concern. _I_ will kill him, and remember this, never forget this: When I found you, you were so goddamned high from whatever shrooms you found in the Flying Forest, you couldn’t even hold a fucking dagger!”

She turned back toward the taller one, who was apparently called Kady. “And YOU,” she screamed, “friendless, brainless, helpless, hopeless! Do you want me to send you back to where you were, unemployed, in Queens?!”

With that, she turned on her heel and marched back to the boat, ignoring Eliot and getting ready to make way. The other two followed suit, conversing together as they worked.

“Alice,” said the smaller brunette, apparently referring to the blonde, “she can… _fuss_ …”

Kady picked up the hint and began what appeared to be a familiar game between the two. “Fuss, _fuss_ …I think she likes to scream… _at us_ …”

The smaller woman smiled excitedly as she continued, “Probably she means no… _harm_ …”

Kady picked up, “She’s lucky I don’t break her… _arm…_ ” she said, throwing a warning glance over her shoulder at Alice.

The smaller one spoke up, “You have such a gift for rhyme!” she exclaimed.

Kady chuckled, “Yeah, yeah…some of the time…”

Alice yelled behind her without looking at them. “Enough of that! Jesus…”

The two other women stifled laughs. The small one let out a dramatic, playful gasp, “Kady, are there rocks ahead?”

Kady mirrored her, animatedly, “Man, if so, we’re fuckin’ dead.”

Alice growled and shouted at them. “No more rhymes, now, I mean it!”

Kady and the smaller woman snorted as Kady answered, “Anybody want a peanut?”

“Gggyyyyyyaaahhhhhh,” growled Alice, exasperatedly as Kady and her partner in crime collapsed into peels of uncontrollable giggles. Even Eliot had to let out a little chuckle.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The group had been sailing for quite some time and night had fallen. Alice lounged next to Eliot, who had finally regained the use of his limbs and had been given some bread and cheese to eat with the crew. “We’ll reach the cliffs by dawn,” Alice announced. She noticed the smaller woman looking over her shoulder every few seconds. “Why are you doing that?” she demanded.

The woman furrowed her brow and tilted her head. “Are you sure no one’s following us?” she asked.

Alice huffed out a condescending laugh. “That would be inconceivable,” she replied.

Eliot, having had enough of their banter for one day, decided to speak up. “Despite what you think,” he began, “you will be caught. And when you are, the Dark King will feed you all to the carnivorous plants of the Lower Slosh.”

Alice raised her eyebrows and looked down her nose at him. “Of all the lives on this boat, _Highness_ , the one you should be worrying about is your own.” She looked over at the short woman again who was looking behind the boat again. “Stop doing that,” Alice yelled, “we can all relax, it’s almost over.”

“Are you sure nobody’s following us?” she asked again.

Alice rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “I told you, it would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways, inconceivable. No one in Loria knows what we’ve done, and no one in Fillory could have gotten here so fast.” She paused for a moment to consider the situation. “But…just out of curiosity…why do you ask?”

The small woman shrugged, “No reason,” she said brightly, “Just…suddenly I happened to look behind us and something is there, that’s all.”

Alice jolted up and looked behind the boat, followed by the two other women. They squinted through the darkness to make out the outline of a boat, coursing through the fog.

Alice cleared her throat nervously. “Probably some local fisherman out for a pleasure cruise at night…through…eel-infested waters…”

Suddenly the trio heard a large splash, and turned in unison to see Eliot swimming perpendicular to the boat toward the shore.

“Go in after him!” ordered Alice.

“I can’t swim,” said the short woman.

Alice looked hopefully at Kady, who shrugged, “I only dog paddle.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” swore Alice as the other two manned the rigging and began to turn the boat. Alice began shouting orders to her small crew. “Veer left. LEFT! OTHER LEFT! Move…that thing! And…that other thing! MOVE!!!.” Suddenly a barrage of ominous shrieks cascaded over the waves. Eliot stopped swimming and treaded water, looking frantically around him. Alice leaned over the side of the boat and addressed Eliot. “Do you know what that sound is, Highness? Those are the shrieking eels. If you don’t believe me, just wait! They always grow louder when they’re about to feed on human flesh.” Eliot’s eyes went wide as panic began to set in. Alice continued, putting on her best customer-service voice, “If you swim back now, I promise, no harm will come to you. I doubt you’ll get such an offer from the eels.”

Eliot felt something brush past his leg. As he spun around, terrified, he noticed he was surrounded by huge snakelike creatures circling him in the water. He turned around just in time to see a large mouth full of razor-sharp teeth heading straight toward him with an eerie _hiss_. He started to frantically swim backward, attempting (foolishly) to get out of striking distance of the eel when suddenly…

_Thwack!_

The eel was pounded on the head with an oar, on the other side of which was Kady, standing on the side of the boat and holding out a hand. Eliot grabbed it and allowed them to help him back into the boat. The women wrapped a blanket around him to warm him as he sat down.

“Put him down, just put him down,” barked Alice.

“I think they’re getting closer,” said the smaller one, looking back at the boat behind them.

“They’re no concern of ours,” snapped Alice. She turned her attention back to Eliot, who was soaking wet and shivering. “I suppose you think you’re brave, don’t you?” she said to him smugly.

Eliot stared sharply at her up through his lashes, set his jaw, and replied, “Only compared to _some_.”


	4. Fen, the Blademaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group is pursued by a masked man. Fen wants vengeance. Sword fight. Yep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so naturally this is going to be more silly than serious. Fen brings her usual Fillorian quirk to the scene with her cheery self and serious regard of (frankly ridiculous) Fillorian verbiage. The whole chapter is just so very Fen. Take that to mean what you will.

The four continued through the eel-infested waters through the night. Eliot managed to get some fitful sleep aboard the vessel, knowing he would have to save his strength for whatever was to come. He awoke with the dawn to find the boat heading toward a rocky shore.

The smaller woman looked behind the boat cautiously. “Look,” she exclaimed, “They’re right on top of us!” She furrowed her brow thoughtfully for a moment. “I wonder if they’re using the same wind we are using.”

“Whoever he is, he’s too late,” Alice barked. “See?” She pointed to the rocky cliffs just ahead. “The cliffs of insanity!”

The boat made its way toward the cliffs. Eliot glanced behind him nervously at the vessel that was quickly gaining on them. Was this a benevolent pursuit? Was someone here to help him? Was this something more sinister? Eliot couldn’t decide whether he should wish for the boat to reach them or not.

Alice looked nervously behind her out toward the boat approaching them. “We’re safe,” she said, unconvincingly, “Only Kady is strong enough and skilled enough to go up our way. They’ll have to sail around for hours until they find a harbor.”

The smaller woman maneuvered the boat through a narrow passage between the cliffs. The crew docked the boat quickly and roughly dragged Eliot out, tugging on the ropes that bound his hands in front of him. He could see that someone had been here previously. A rope had been hung from a point at the top of the cliff. At the bottom was what appeared to be a harness of some kind with three loops jutting off of the main binding. He watched as Kady seated herself into the harness. Eliot was muscled into one of the loops on the harness, followed by the other two women who seated themselves in the remaining loops. Kady performed a complicated tut and Eliot felt himself lift slightly – not completely off the ground, but just enough to make him feel lighter. She then performed an even more complex tut, which resulted in a red glow that hovered and settled over her arms and hands. Eliot’s jaw dropped open as she grabbed the rope and began to pull herself up, along with Eliot and the other two women. Hand over hand she climbed, higher and higher, pulling the weight of three adults with her. Eliot wouldn’t say “effortlessly” – she was definitely putting in quite a bit of effort, and even with the spells that were obviously designed to lighten the load and fortify the climber, it clearly took a person of incredible physical strength to accomplish this feat. Kady was sweating and grunting with effort, her breath coming hard and fast. Eliot felt almost as though he were in a pool of water – buoyant, but still feeling the pull of gravity on his limbs as they dangled freely over the rocks. He made the mistake of glancing below him, and promptly slammed his eyes shut, squeezing himself as best as he could into his captors for dear life.

The group was about half way up the rope when the smaller woman looked down. Her eyes widened. Below them was a man, dressed head to toe in black, with a black mask over his eyes. He grabbed the end of the rope and began to climb.

“He’s climbing the rope,” she said with a huff of disbelief. “And he’s gaining on us!”

Alice craned her head to look down at the man in black. “Inconceivable!” She exclaimed. She knit her brows together and grit her teeth. “FASTER!” she ordered Kady.

“I AM going faster,” snapped Kady, straining through the effort.

Alice radiated anger from every pore. “You were supposed to be this great battle magician. You were this legendary bad bitch, and yet he gains!”

Kady set her jaw and narrowed her focus to the rope ahead of her, shaking with exertion. “Yeah well, I’m carrying three fucking people and he’s only got himself to worry about, “she spat out, “so why don’t you back the fuck off?”

Alice rolled her eyes and stared back at her. “I do not accept excuses, Kady!” She pushed her jaw upward defiantly, “I’m just going to have to find myself another battle magician, that’s all.”

Kady rolled her eyes. “Oh fuck off, Alice.”

The group continue to climb slowly. The man in black was climbing underneath them, making two strides for every one of their own. Alice looked down at him nervously and let out a small, nervous growl. “Did I make it clear that your job is at stake, Kady?” She yelled, shakily. Kady did not respond.

Finally the group reached the top of the cliff. Kady pulled them roughly over the edge onto solid ground, scraping them along the graveled surface despite the buoyancy spell. Eliot had resigned himself to the fact that this entire outfit would need to be trashed. He thought about how Margo would make fun of the fact that he was even thinking about his clothing right now, but after all, he was who he was, and his façade was all he had left. The smaller women was the first to wriggle out of the harness. She helped Eliot to get free from the straps and steady himself. She brushed him off and took a quick look at the scrapes on his arms, giving a quick nod once she confirmed that they weren’t serious. As Alice got herself free from the harness, she nodded sharply toward the rock to which the rope was anchored. The small woman ran over and began to cut the rope with one of the knives she kept tucked into her waistband. Alice grabbed Eliot’s bound hands and threw him carelessly to the ground near a large boulder. Kady stood at the edge of the cliff and looked down. The knife-wielding woman cut through the final layer of rope with a sharp twang as it snapped and was dragged swiftly over the edge of the cliff. She joined Kady at the edge of the cliff to see the damage.

About 50 feet from the top of the cliff was the man in black, hanging on to the rocks with leather-gloved hands.

“He’s got some damn good arms,” remarked Kady, clearly impressed.

Alice joined them to look down upon the impossible spectacle below them. “He didn’t fall? INCONCEIVABLE!”

The smaller woman turned her head toward Alice and furrowed her brows together in that naïve, confused-but-pensive look she had that Eliot was getting used to seeing. “You keep using that word,” she said quizzically. “I do not think it means what you think it means.”

Alice shot her an incredulous look.

“My gods…” breathed the knife woman. “He’s climbing.”

Slowly but steadily, the man in black began to climb up the cliff, one foothold at a time. The three women looked down at him in disbelief.

“Well,” said Alice haughtily, “whoever he is, he’s obviously seen us with the prince and must therefore die. You,” she ordered, snapping her attention to Kady, “Carry him. We’ll head straight for the Lorian frontier. You,” she said to the knife-woman, “Catch up when he’s dead. If he falls, fine. If not, the blades.”

The woman shifted excitedly, taking her knives out of her waistband and twirling them in a showy display. “I’m going to fight him left-handed,” she said.

Alice rolled her eyes. “You know what a hurry we’re in!”

The woman dropped her shoulders and slumped. “But, it’s the _only_ way I can be satisfied. If I use my right, it’s over too quickly.”

Alice sighed. “Fine,” she said sharply, “Have it your way.”

Kady glanced back at Alice as she started to walk away. She bent down close to the other woman as she tucked her knives back into her waist band and drew a long, thin sword form behind her back. “You be careful,” whispered Kady, “People in masks can’t be trusted.”

“I’m _waiting_!” yelled Alice, clearly out of patience already. Kady bent down and lifted Eliot to his feet. She cast the familiar buoyancy spell again and hoisted him over her shoulder before following Alice out of sight.

The small woman headed over to the edge of the cliff and looked over. The man in black had made very little progress. She gave him a friendly wave. “Hello there!” she called cheerfully. “Slow going?” She asked. The man looked up at her questioningly for a moment, wondering why she was acting like she was having a normal, everyday conversation with him as if it were a Sunday afternoon barbecue. He shook his head. “I don’t mean to be rude,” he said, “but this is not as easy as it looks, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me.”

“Sorry,” the woman said with a strained grin, spinning on her heel and pacing away from the edge.

“Thank you,” said the man, straining as he turned back to his task.

The woman paced back and forth impatiently. Finally she looked back over the edge of the cliff. “I don’t suppose you could speed things up?” she asked.

The man sighed in frustration. The woman could have sworn she saw his eyes roll. “Look, ok, if you’re in such a damn hurry, you could, you know, lower a rope or a tree branch or find something useful to do.”

She considered it. “I could do that,” she mused. “I do still have some rope up here! But…I don’t think you would accept my help, since I am only waiting around to kill you,” she said brightly.

The man looked up at her stoically. “That does put a damper on our relationship,” he said matter-of-factly.

The woman leaned closer. “But,” she said in a low voice, “I promise I will not kill you until you reach the top.”

“That’s very comforting,” said the man sarcastically, “but I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait.”

The woman grimaced. “I hate waiting,” she pouted as she turned around. She stopped in her tracks and called back down to the man, “I could give you my word as a Fillorian!”

The man shook his head. “No good,” he said, “I’ve known too many Fillorians.”

She looked disappointed, but conceded his point. “Isn’t there any way you’ll trust me?” she pleaded.

“Nothing comes to mind,” said the man, clearly irritated at this point.

The woman stilled, her face suddenly somber. She stared directly into the man’s eyes. “I swear on the soul of my father, Dint Wahlburger, you will reach the top alive.”

The man in black regarded her thoughtfully. “Throw me the rope.”

The woman unwound a portion of the rope that was left and lowered the end of it down toward the man. He grabbed the rope gratefully, muscles shaking from the sustained effort as the woman used her strength to pull him up.

He reached the top of the cliff, panting and dripping with sweat. “Thank you,” he breathed. Scrambling to his feet, he began to draw his sword.

“No no no no no...” the woman stuttered. “We’ll wait until you’re ready.”

He looked at her cautiously, but decided it was safe to sheath his sword. “Again, thank you,” he said.

The woman nodded, a reassuring gesture. A few moments passed in silence as the man caught his breath. The woman looked down at his gloved hand. “I don’t mean to pry,” she said slowly, “but you don’t by any chance happen to have six fingers on your right hand?”

The man looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Do you always begin conversations this way?”

She shook her head and looked downward. “My father was slaughtered by a six-fingered man,” she explained. The man straightened his posture and turned toward her, actively listening. He showed her his right hand, five fingers outstretched. The woman continued, “He was a great knife-maker, my father. The best in Fillory. When the six-fingered man appeared and requested a special knife, my father took the job. He slaved a year before it was done. He called it The Leo Blade. ”

She produced the knife from its sheath, handing it to the man to look over. The man turned it over in his hand, admiring it reverently. It was embedded with what appeared to be moonstones, obviously enchanted, and magically powerful. “It’s beautiful,” he marveled. “I’ve never seen it’s equal.”

He handed the blade back to her. She returned it carefully to its home as she continued. “The six-fingered man returned and demanded it, but at one-tenth his promised price. My father refused. Without a word, the six-fingered man slashed him through the heart.”

The man shifted uncomfortably. He seemed to instinctively reach toward her as a gesture of comfort, but stopped himself.

“I loved my father,” she said, moisture forming in her eyes, “so naturally, I challenged his murderer to a duel…I failed…” she dropped her head shamefully. “The six-fingered man left me alive…but he gave me these…” she motioned to two deep scars on either side of her face.

“How old were you?” asked the man.

“I was eleven years old,” she said. “When I was strong enough, I dedicated my life to the study of fencing, so the next time we meet, I will not fail.” She looked off into the distance slightly, as if in a day dream. “I will go up to the six-fingered man and say, ‘Hello. My name is Fencicle Wahlburger. You killed my father. Prepare to die.’”

The man in black regarded him for a moment, a flood of thoughts and emotions storming the threshold of his consciousness. He pushed them back, a carefully-crafted moved he had perfected over many years.

“Um, _Fencicle?_ ” he asked, trying not to offend.

“Well, I go by ‘Fen’ usually,” she said with a shrug.

“You’ve done nothing but study fencing?” he asked.

The woman snapped back to the present, donning her usual cheery disposition. “More a pursuit than a study, lately. You see, I cannot find him. He was – when I saw him, he didn’t exactly give off any clues to his identity. He was covered from head to toe. Never spoke to me. All I can seem to recall are the six fingers on his hand…that’s it. It’s been twenty years now and I am starting to lose confidence.” She stood up, dusting herself off and stretching. “I just work for Alice to pay the bills. There’s not a lot of money in revenge.”

The man followed suit and stood to prepare for battle. “Well, I certainly hope you find him someday,” he said, softly, pulling his sword from its sheath. He shifted his weapon into his left hand as Fen assumed a left-handed stance, the Leo blade in the left, the other on the right.

“You’re ready then?” asked Fen, a little too chipper.

The man nodded. “Whether I am or not, you’ve been more than fair.”

Fen grinned broadly. “You seem a decent person. I hate to kill you.”

The man returned a sweet, curvy smile. “You seem a decent person. I hate to die.”

The two dropped their expressions in unison, lowered their weapons, and took their stance. Fen looked her opponent square in the eyes, boring into him with a fierceness she had not hitherto revealed. “Begin.”

The man offered a few week feints, effortlessly parried by his opponent. A mild swing, testing Fen’s reactions. A quick lunge set off the battle in earnest. The rocky terrain was filled with the echoes of clanging metal, sharp and determined. The fencers attacked each other aggressively, with accuracy and finesse. Fen advanced on the man in black, forcing him backward over rocks and boulders with quick footwork. The man in black gained the upper hand slightly, forcing Fen into a defensive stance.

“You are using Barion’s defense against me, huh?” said Fen with a knowing smile. She lived for this, and she knew her shit. She would play with her toy a little longer…

“I thought it fitting,” said the man in black, casually, “considering the rocky terrain.”

Fen pressed on. “Naturally, you must expect me to attack with Chankly-Hops?”

“Naturally,” echoed the man, “but I find that Honeyclaw cancels out Chankly-Hops, don’t you?”

Fen was beginning to waver slightly, but gathered herself. “Unless the enemy has studied Rimbles’ Attack,” she said, her smile fading as she struggled with her defense. “Which I have,” she said triumphantly as she switched tactics and gained the upper hand at last.

“You are wonderful,” she exclaimed as the battle continued.

“Thank you,” said the man in black. “I’ve worked hard to become so.”

“I admit it, you are better than I am,” stated Fen with a smile.

“Then why are you smiling?” asked the man.

“Because I know something you don’t know,” laughed Fen.

The man in black furthered his advance, putting Fen on the defensive once again. “And what is that?”

Fen narrowed her eyes and flashed a devilish grin. “I am not left-handed,” she said.

She quickly switched the knives into opposite hands, flourishing the Leo Blade expertly with her right hand, forcing the man backward as she began her attack.

“You’re amazing,” marveled the man.

“I ought to be after twenty years,” stated Fen proudly. She backed him into what appeared to be ruins of a stone wall overlooking a high boulder. The two struggled together, pushing into each other and wrestling for dominance. Fen pressed her weight onto him, gaining the advantage as he struggled to get free, the enchanted blade less than an inch from his face.

“There is something,” the man managed to croak out, “I ought to tell you.”

Fen took a few labored breaths. “Tell me,” she ordered.

The man looked into her eyes with a smirk. “I’m not left-handed, either.” With that he pushed her off of him with everything he had, switching his blade to his right hand and brandishing it with expert precision in an intimidating display.

Fen’s jaw dropped open as she attempted to gather herself for harder battle. The two launched toward each other fervently, clashing their blades roughly as they traveled quickly over the uneven ground. Fen found her knives flying out of her hand suddenly as the man in black hooked her blades at once with a twisting motion and flung them out of reach. Thinking quickly, she jumped form the peak of a nearby boulder, twisting in the air and landing on her feet unsteadily near her fallen blades. She grabbed the knives quickly and turned to face her adversary. In a show of superiority, the man tossed his sword with a sharp flick of his wrist, making it stick into the ground just in front of Fen. He then launched himself off the same boulder, executing a beautiful full-twisting front flip and landing solidly just shy of his sword. He plucked it from the ground languidly, juxtaposed to the ragged appearance of Fen, panting and sweating as her jaw dropped open.

“Who _are_ you?” Fen asked.

“No one of consequence,” replied the man.

“I must know,” countered Fen.

“Get used to disappointment,” the man retorted.

Fen shrugged. “Ok,” she muttered, and the fight began again. More fervently than ever before, the pair battled relentlessly. Fen was beginning to tire and it showed in her mistakes. The man in black seemed tireless, determined, as if he was fighting for the highest, most noble cause in the world. He lunged and thrust toward her in rapid succession, forcing Fen to flail and swing her knives wildly in defense. The two were encased in a swirl of frenzied action, _swing, swing, swing, clash, clash, clash, SLICE…_ the Leo Blade crashed to the ground as her hand flew up to her head. She felt frantically for blood, unsure if she had been cut. She felt the rough stubble of shorn hair on the side of her head where the man’s sword had sliced through her hair, leaving her scalp untouched. Her second knife was jolted out of her hand by the man in black’s sword as she was caught off guard. Her head spun as she realized she had no hope of walking away from this one. Her life-long mission had failed. Her father would never be avenged. This is where she would meet her end.

“Kill me quickly,” she said, bravery flickering through her wavering voice as she fell to her knees.

The man circled her slowly, eyeing the prey he had caught. “I would as soon destroy a stained-glass window as an artist like yourself,” he said calmly. “However, since I can’t have you following me, either…” And with that, he struck Fen swiftly on the head with the hilt of his saber, rendering her unconscious, but very much alive. He made a low bow as he regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, “Please understand I hold you in the highest respect.”


	5. Kady, the Battle Magician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mysterious Man in Black takes on Kady in a magic battle to end all magic battles.

Alice stared down from a narrow mountain path, surprised to see the Man in Black running through the fields below. Kady, still holding Eliot over her shoulder, stood beside Alice.

“Inconceivable!” Cried Alice, a look of determination on her face. She stepped back and motioned for Kady to put Eliot down.

“Give him to me,” she said gruffly, grabbing Eliot by his bound wrists and roughly pulling him along behind her. “Catch up with us quickly.”

Kady gave Alice a confused look. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?” she asked, clearly irritated.

“Finish him, finish him! Your way,” Alice barked.

Kady’s face lifted, a pleased little look drifting across her face momentarily before falling back into irritated confusion. “Wait… _what_? What the fuck is that supposed to mean, ‘my way’? Jesus you always have to be so fucking dramatic. Just say what you mean.”

Alice spun around, clearly annoyed at the interruption. She rolled her eyes as she pointed down to Kady’s hands. “You’re a battle magician, right? Hide behind those rocks, and in a few minutes, the Man in Black will come running around the bend. The minute he is in view, _hit him with some goddamned battle magic_!”

Alice turned away sharply and resumed dragging Eliot over the rocky path down the other side of the hill. Kady looked on as she faded out of view, shaking her head in disgust. “No honor among thieves, huh?” Kady was a lot of things, but she wasn’t a coward who hid behind rocks just to get an unfair advantage. Still, since she didn’t want to be caught off guard herself, she walked behind the pile of rocks and waited.

The man in black ran up the mountain trail to the bend in the path and stopped. He took a few steps forward gingerly and listened. Hearing nothing, he cautiously continued around the bend. Suddenly, a wave of magic blasted into the rock in front of him, the aftershocks causing him to stagger backward. As he struggled to get his footing, looking around to identify the threat, Kady came strolling out from behind the rocks, casually sending lazy sparks from her fingers – a warning. She looked up at the Man in Black, a cool expression on her face.

“I did that on purpose,” she said, flaring up the display of magic streaming from her hand. “I don’t have to miss.”

The Man in Black swallowed audibly as he trained his eyes on her hand. “I believe you,” he said, “so what happens now?”

Kady dropped her hands and let the magic fizzle out. “We face each other as the gods intended. A fair fight. No tricks, no hiding. Skill against skill alone.”

The Man in Black relaxed slightly as he took a small step forward, his hands still in a guarded stance. “You mean, we’ll stand out here in the open, put down our weapons, and try to kill each other like civilized Magicians?”

Kady smiled slyly and lifted her hand up again, resuming the threatening sparks from her fingertips. “I could kill you now,” she taunted.

The Man in Black shook his head adamantly, held his hands up in a non-threatening pose, and dropped his sword to the ground. The pair walked toward each other slowly, keeping a safe distance, and began to circle each other.

“Frankly,” said the man, “I think the odds are slightly in your favor at battle magic.”

Kady shrugged. “Not my fault being strong and gifted,” she chuckled. “I don’t even practice.”

Kady drew her hands back together and interlaced her fingers together before thrusting her palms forward and letting loose a massive blow of energy with a loud “boom”. The Man in Black dove out of the way, landing on the ground as pebbles rained down on him from the rock which had just been blasted to pieces behind him. He looked up at Kady and quickly fired off a few quick shots of magic, nothing as powerful as what Kady had done, but enough that it would have been a distraction while he got back on his feet. Kady deflected the weak attacks with a wave of her hand, but didn’t yet fire off any more attacks of her own. She allowed the man to get his footing before firing off another weak shot that toppled him backward. Every time he would get up, she would knock him back down, but never hard enough to do any real damage. He stayed down the last time, huffing out a frustrated sigh.

“Look, are you just fucking around with me or what?” he growled. He didn’t have time for this shit.

Kady chuckled. “I just want you to feel like you’re doing well. I hate for people die embarrassed.”

God, he would wipe that smug smile off of her face if he didn’t respect it so much.

He got back up and they squared off again. Kady fired off another spell. This time, the Man in Black ran straight toward her before she had time to finish the tut. His move threw her for a moment, and she fired above his head as he slid feet-first into her leg, like he was sliding into home base. Kady jumped out of the way, surprised but somewhat impressed.

“You’re quick,” she said.

“And a good thing, too,” he returned, popping up behind her as she spun around. The two circled each other again, looking for an opportunity to attack.

“Why do you wear a mask?” Kady questioned. “Vanity spell gone wrong, perhaps?”

The man in black darted around Kady quickly, making sure to remain a moving target as he spoke. Kady spun around to try and keep up with him. “Oh no, it’s just that they’re terribly comfortable,” he answered. “I think everyone will be wearing them in the future.”

Kady’s eyebrows shot up briefly, apparently accepting his answer before launching another attack toward the man. The Man in Black dove out of the way, having learned what Kady’s muscles did just before she attacked. He observed the way her shoulders tensed, the way her breath steadied and her stomach stilled. He could see them coming a mile away now, and he had that to his advantage. Kady may have been the best at brute-strength battle magic, but what she lacked was observation. She relied on her skill to get her past any obstacles, and that’s where the Man in Black found his opportunity.

He shot off a powerful spell, seemingly aimed at Kady but whizzing past her at lightning speed, just inches from her shoulder as it collided with a boulder behind her head. She turned to follow it, just for a moment, and that’s when the Man in Black saw his chance. He fired off a succession of smaller spells that knocked Kady to the ground before she had a chance to turn back around. Kady fell to all fours, tossing smaller spells over her shoulder as the Man in Black continued to fire at her, ruthlessly.

“Shit,” she said, “I just...” _crash_ , a rock beside her exploded, “…figured out why…” a spell whizzed past her left ear, “…you give me…” blinding sparks flew from her fingertips as she sent off another misaimed spell, “…so much trouble…” she spat out, becoming overwhelmed by the barrage of… _what the fuck, tiny little spells that not one would ever use in a magic battle what the fuck was this?_

“Oh yeah?” said the man, dodging behind a small rock to avoid one of Kady’s better-aimed spells. “Why is that, do you think?”

Kady panted in exhaustion, but she wasn’t giving up now. “Well,” she began as she twisted herself around to sit back on her butt, legs bent in front of her, firing off spell after spell in the man’s general direction, “I haven’t fought just one person…” a barrage of fireworks went off near her ear, causing her to duck her head for a moment, “for so long…” her ears rang as she struggled to see clearly, “I’ve been…” _Bam! Bam! Bam!_ She fired off three attacks, landing them inches from the man’s head, “…specializing in groups…battling…” _Pop!_ _More fireworks?_ “…gangs for local charities, that kind of thing” a miniature wind storm kicked up in front of her, blowing dirt all around her as she shielded her face.

The man dove sideways to barely elude a stunner spell. “Why should that make such a difference?” He asked as he brushed the dirt off of himself and flicked tiny little spells from his fingertips toward Kady.

“Shit, what the…” Kady ducked down and put her hands over her head to shield herself from…wait, was that… _rain? Was it raining?_ The Man in Black had conjured a tiny little rain cloud that followed her around no matter where she tried to go. _What the fuck, this was just plain annoying._ Leave it this fucker to have “irritating” as his secret weapon. Who _was_ this dude? “I mean,” Kady continued, her arms growing tired now as her nerves wore thin, “you use different moves when you’re fighting half a dozen people…” she explained, still attempting to fire off battle spells, but landing weak hits several feet away from the man now, her resources spent “…than when you only have to be worried…” she dropped to her knees, exhausted from being drenched in rain from her own personal storm and being pelted with… _Jesus were those Skittles? Was he throwing Skittles at her? Fucking hell…_ she fell forward, supporting her weight on her hands as she breathlessly finished her sentence, “…about one.”

Then Kady collapsed.

The Man in Black stood up and cautiously walked over the where Kady lie face down on the ground. He rolled her over and put his ear to her chest, listening for a heartbeat. Having found one, he breathed a sigh of relief. He looked down at her and spoke to her unconscious form. “I don’t envy you with the headache you’ll have when you awake, but in the meantime, rest well…and dream of powerful women.” He skillfully scooped up his sword with his foot and caught it in the air before running off down the mountain path and over the hill, following the route taken by Alice and Eliot.

Back at the scene of the blade fight between the Man in Black and Fen, The Dark King stepped his foot carefully to fit into a footprint on the ground. He shuffled forward, then back, apparently mimicking a fencing duel using the marks left behind in the sand. A small group of armed guards on horseback gathered behind him. A small, dark-haired woman sat on a black horse in front of the guards, holding a large white horse as it waited for its rider’s return.

“There was a mighty duel,” announced the Dark King. Arrogance poured from his voice as he spoke to himself, though clearly putting on a show for his guards. “They were both masters.”

The brunette woman spoke. “Who won? How did it end?”

The Dark King looked over to where Fen had fallen, though she was no longer there. “The loser ran off alone,” he explained, “and the winner followed those footprints toward Loria.”

The woman spoke again. She clearly held some kind of high position, and her countenance was haughty, with a hint of fear masked by an air of authority. “Should we track them both?” she asked.

The Dark King turned quickly to face her. “The loser is nothing. Only the Prince matters.” He turned to face the guards, donning a booming, theatrical voice – a performance for his small army, “Clearly this was all planned by warriors of Loria. We must be ready for whatever lies ahead.” The Dark King mounted his horse quickly.

The woman leaned over and lowered her voice, speaking privately to the King. “Could this be a trap?” she wondered.

The King smirked at her smugly, “I always think everything could be a trap,” he said, “Which is why I’m still alive.”

The King galloped off down the path leading to the rocky valley recently vacated by the Man in Black. The woman motioned for the guards to follow, looking around cautiously as she brought up the rear of the company. She shook her head solemnly, as if somehow, this didn’t seem to be going as planned…


	6. Alice, the Brains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Man in Black shows off that big brain of his.

The Man in Black ran up the narrow trail until he came to a hilltop. As he crested the peak of the hill, he saw a small table laid out with a tablecloth, two goblets, a wine bottle, some cheese, and a few apples. At the table sat Eliot, blindfolded. Alice sat next to him with a knife held to his throat. Eliot sat up very tall and very still, terrified to move. The Man in Black approached slowly as Alice began to speak.

“So it is down to you, and it is down to me,” she said, tilting her chin up defiantly. The Man in Black nodded slowly as he approached them carefully. “If you wish him dead, by all means, keep moving forward.” Alice pushed the knife harder against Eliot’s throat. Eliot sucked in a hard breath as he attempted to pull away from the sharp point of the dagger.

The Man in Black paused momentarily, then resumed his approach with his hands out defensively. “Let me explain,” he began.

Alice let out a frustrated little growl. “There’s nothing to explain,” she said, growing louder. “You’re trying to kidnap what I’ve rightfully stolen.”

The Man in Black took another step. “Perhaps an arrangement can be reached,” he suggested.

Alice’s voice grew impatient. “There will be no arrangement,” she said, “and you’re killing him.” Alice pressed the tip of the knife even further against Eliot’s exposed neck, a small drop of blood escaping in a slow trickle down his throat as he gasped in pain. The Man in Black came to a halt about ten feet in front of the table.

“But if there can be no arrangement,” he reasoned, “then we are at an impasse.”

Alice pulled back on the dagger to offer Eliot some relief. “I’m afraid so,” she said, her tone confident and rational, “I can’t compete with you, physically, and you’re no match for my brains.”

The corners of the man’s mouth quirked up slightly. “You’re that smart?” he prodded.

Alice’s mouth broadened into a wicked smile, as if she were flattered and trying to hide it. “Let me put it this way,” she said, “have you ever heard of Plato, Aristotle, Socrates?”

“Yes,” the man answered.

“Morons,” she said flatly.

“Really,” the man mused, a curvy smile floating to his lips as he seemed to ponder something. “In that case,” he continued, “I challenge you to a battle of wits.”

Alice perked up. She clearly loved a challenge. “For the Prince?” she asked.

The man nodded.

“To the death?” she practically squealed, unable to contain her excitement.

The man nodded again, flicking his eyes to the side as if he were hiding something.

“I accept,” said Alice.

“Good,” said the Man in Black, “then pour the wine.  
Alice filled the goblets with dark liquid from the wine bottle. The Man in Black pulled a small baggy full of a powdered substance from his pocket. He opened it and held it in front of Alice.

“Smell this, but do not touch,” he commanded.

Alice smelled it cautiously. “It doesn’t smell like anything,” she said.

The Man in Black pulled the powder back to himself. “What I have in here is Seroquel. It is odorless, tasteless when dissolved in liquid, and is potentially deadly at less than half the amount in this bag. This batch has been charmed to act almost instantly.

Alice made a smug little sound to show him that she was unimpressed. The Man in Black took the goblets and turned his back to Alice. Alice looked at him curiously as he hid his actions from view. When he turned around, the bag was empty. The Man put the goblets down on the table, one in front of Alice, and the other in front of himself.

“Alright,” he announced, “where is the drug? The battle of wits has begun. It ends when you decide and we both drink…and find out who is right…and who is dead.”

Alice looked at him and huffed out a condescending laugh. “But it’s so simple,” she said flippantly, “all I have to do is divine from what I know of you. Are you the sort of person who would put the drug into his own goblet, or his enemy’s.”

The Man in Black remained unmoved, staring starkly into her eyes. Alice continued, “Now a clever person would put the drug into his own goblet, because he would know that only a great fool would reach for what he was given. I’m not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you must have known I was not a great fool; you would have counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.” She sat up, looking quite proud of herself.

“You’ve made your decision then?’ asked the man.

“Ohhhh, not remotely,” she laughed. “Because Seroquel is used to treat psychosis, as everyone knows, and people who deal with psychosis are often paranoid and don’t trust people, as you are not trusted by me, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you.”

The man rested his chin on his fist, enthralled with Alice’s flutter of reasoning. “Truly, you have a dizzying intellect,” he noted, with a hint of a smile.

“Wait ‘til I get going!” she exclaimed with an absolutely maniacal laugh. “Now…wait, where was I?”

“In the throws of psychosis, I believe,” quipped the man.

“Yes, psychosis!” she resumed. “And you must have suspected I would have known the medicinal uses of Seroquel, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.”

The Man in Black cracked a knowing smile. “You’re just stalling now,” he chided.

Alice grew all the more frustrated. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” She snapped. The man’s eyebrows popped up as he leaned back cautiously. Alice continued, practically yelling now. “You’ve beaten my battle magician, which means you’re exceptionally adept at magic, so you might have put the drug into your own goblet, trusting on your own power to save you. So I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But, you’ve also bested my blade master which means you must have studied. And in studying, you must have learned that humans are mortal so you would have put the drug as far from yourself as possible, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.

The Man in Black was growing impatient. “You’re trying to trick me into giving away something,” he said flatly. “It won’t work.”

Alice nearly screamed triumphantly, “It _has_ worked! You’ve given _everything_ away! I know where the drug is!”

“Then make your choice,” growled the man.

“I will,” yelled Alice, “And I choose-” Suddenly she stopped, her eyes went wide as she gazed at something over the man’s shoulder. She gasped dramatically. “Holy shit, what the fuck is that?!”

The Man in Black turned around quickly to search for the threat. “What? Where?,” he asked, frantically, “I don’t see anything.”

Working quickly, Alice switched the goblets before the man turned back to face her.

“Oh,” she said, feigning an air of innocence, “well, I-I could have sworn I saw something…hmm…I guess not…” Alice began giggling to herself.

“What’s so funny,” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

Alice snorted. “I’ll tell you in a minute. First, let’s drink. Me from my glass, and you from yours.”

The pair picked up their respective goblets, raising them in increments until the man’s goblet reached his lips, giving Alice the final permission she needed to drink. They drained the goblets and set them down in unison. A broad smile crept across the man’s face.

“You guessed wrong,” he said with a smirk.

Alice let out a tiny victorious shriek. “You only _think_ I guessed wrong, that’s what’s so funny!” she explained. “I switched glasses when your back was turned. You fool!”

The Man in Black sat looking at Alice, expressionless. Alice continued, “You fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is “never strike a bargain with the Fairies.” But only slightly less well known is this: “Never go in against a Magician when death is on the line.” Alice roared with laughter, cackling happily while rocking back and forth, knocking into Eliot and nearly pushing him onto the ground as she shook with hearty laughter until…

She slumped over, her head stopping with a resound “thump” on the hard wooden table.

The Man in Black stood up and hastened over to Eliot, taking off the blindfold and quickly untying the ropes that bound his hands in front of him. He pulled him roughly to his feet.

Eliot looked down into the man’s eyes, searching for a clue. “Who are you,” he asked.

The man looked back up at Eliot fiercely. “I am no one to be trifled with,” he snapped, “that is all you ever need to know.”

The Man in Black began to lead Eliot off the mountain path down the other side of the hill. Eliot glanced back at Alice. “Is…is she dead?” he asked.

“No,” the Man in Black answered hurriedly, looking around for signs of danger. “She’s just _really_ knocked out. She’ll sleep for a while.”

Eliot stared at her limp form melting into the rustic table. “To think,” he pondered, “all that time it was your cup that was drugged.”

The Man in Black turned to look Eliot square in the eye, gently patting him, checking for injuries. “They were both drugged,” he explained. “I’ve been taking that shit for depression for years. I pop those things like candy.” He gave Eliot a quick smile and a wink before darting down the side of the hill, dragging Eliot along behind him.


	7. As You Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The identity of the Man in Black is revealed. But wait...the danger isn't over yet...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ugh...they're kissing again..."
> 
> ;)
> 
> Psst...slight story divergence (the first of several) as we see that Alice isn't dead, but...how will this develop? Stay tuned, kids...

The Dark King kneeled in the sand amongst the rocks and pebbles littering the scene where minutes before, a powerful, albeit confusing, Magic Battle had been waged between Kady and the Man in Black. The king picked up a handful of sand, rubbing it in between his fingers and allowing it to fall back to the earth. He spoke very solemnly and with authority.

“Someone has beaten a powerful battle magician,” he exclaimed. He rose dramatically and addressed his guards. “There will be great suffering in Loria if he dies,” he announced. Then, giving a pointed look toward the dark-haired woman who was apparently his right hand, he lept back onto his horse and led the party down the other side of the mountain, following the path of the Man in Black.

* * *

Some distance away, the Man in Black dragged his captor along a rocky ridge. Eliot stumbled occasionally but was jerked and wrestled roughly back to his feet by the Man in Black. Finally, seeing that Eliot was near exhaustion and struggling hard to continue, he let him go, allowing Eliot to fall to his knees. Eliot took a few panting breaths before settling himself back against a large boulder to rest.

“If you’ll release me,” Eliot tried, desperately, “whatever you ask for ransom, you’ll get it, I promise you…”

The Man in Black threw his head back and let out a condescending laugh. “And what is that worth? The promise of a _kept man_ ,” he said, spitting the words out of his mouth as if they were poison. He looked sternly into Eliot’s eyes. “You’re very funny, _Highness_.”

Eliot steeled his nerves and changed tactics, defensive after the insult. “I was giving you a chance,” he replied, slowing coming back to his bold self. “No matter where you take me, there’s no greater hunter than the Dark King. He has eyes everywhere. He’s located travelers mere _seconds_ after they’ve popped into Fillory. He can find you…”

The Man in Black turned his back on his hostage. “You think your _dearest love_ will save you?” The words wavered ever-so-slightly as they left his lips.

Eliot replied almost before the man had finished. “I never said he was my dearest love,” he retorted, angrily. Then softer, “And yes, he will save me. That I know.”

The Man in Black turned to face Eliot and cocked his head curiously. “You admit to me you do not love your fiancé?”

Eliot softened and looked toward the ground. “He knows I do not love him.”

“Are not capable of love is what you mean,” spat the Man in Black, taking a step closer.

Eliot looked up sharply to meet the man’s gaze, shooting daggers into the man’s eyes as Eliot lifted himself to his full height and towered above his kidnapper. “I have loved more deeply than a killer like yourself could ever dream,” he said, challenging a reply.

The Man in Black raised his hand to ignite sparks from his fingertips threateningly. Eliot flinched.

“That was a warning, _Highness_ ,” the Man in Black’s voice low and severe. “The next time, my spell flies on its own. For where I come from, there are penalties when a man lies.”

* * *

Back at the scene of the showdown with Alice, the Dark King was kneeling over the woman’s limp body. He was taking her pulse as he examined the remnants of the bag that previously held the powdery drug used to put her in such a state.

“Seroquel,” he announced. “I’d bet my life on it.” He gestured to the footprints leading down the trail. “And there are the Prince’s footprints. He is alive…or was, an hour ago. If he is otherwise when I find him, I shall be very put out.” He spoke to the dark-haired woman. “Take her back to the castle. We shall see what information we can get from her when she awakens.” The woman motioned to a member of the guard to carry out the task as the Dark King mounted his horse and led the rest of the company down the mountain path.

* * *

The Man in Black threw Eliot forcefully to the ground as they reached the summit of the ridge. Below them, a steep drop into a small valley with a path that led into a dark mass of ominous-looking trees.

“Rest, Highness,” he said gruffly as he examined his surroundings.

Eliot looked up at him with hatred in his eyes. “I know who you are,” he began, “your cruelty reveals everything. You’re the Dread Pirate Reynard. Admit it.”

The Man in Black flashed a cat-like smile as he made a dramatic low bow. “With pride,” he said lightly, “What can I do for you?”

Eliot held his gaze steady. “You can die slowly cut into a thousand pieces,” he returned.

The Man in Black looked down at him mockingly, “Hardly complimentary, your highness. Why loose your venom on me?”

Eliot lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. “You killed my love,” he said, returning his gaze to the ground.

The Man in Black began walking back and forth slowly, pensively. “It’s possible,” he mused, “I kill of lot of people.” He spoke casually, but obviously looking for information. “Who was this love of yours?” he asked, “Another prince, like this one? Ugly, rich, and scabby?”

“NO!,” Eliot shouted. Then calmer, distant, reliving memories as he talked, “A student. Beautiful. Humble. Perfect. With eyes like the sea after a storm…”

The Man in Black stilled for a moment as Eliot continued. “On the high seas, your ship attacked, and the Dread Pirate Reynard never takes prisoners.”

The Man in Black replied casually, with an air of haughtiness, “I can’t afford to make exceptions. Once word leaks out that a pirate has gone soft, people begin to disobey you, and then it’s nothing but work, work, work, all the time.”

Eliot stood up and took a step toward the man. “You mock my pain!”

“Life _is_ pain, highness,” the man replied, a sharp edge to his voice that was _almost_ wavering. “Anyone who says differently is selling something.”

Eliot took a step back as the man continued. “I remember this student of yours, I think. This would be, what, five years ago?” Eliot nodded. “Does it bother you to hear?” asked the man.

Eliot lifted his chin in defiance. “Nothing you can say will upset me.”

The man shrugged and continued. “He died well, that should please you. No bribe attempts or blubbering. He simply said, ‘Please. Please, I need to live.” It was the ‘please’ that caught my memory.”

The man shifted toward Eliot as Eliot looked up at him questioningly. The man continued. “I asked him what was so important for him. ‘True love,’ he replied. And then he spoke of a man of surpassing beauty and faithfulness. I can only assume he meant you.” Eliot cracked the faintest smile. The man’s demeanor shifted suddenly. “You should thank me for destroying him before he found out what you _really_ are.” His words bit visibly into Eliot’s countenance as it fell.

“And what am I?” he demanded.

“Faithfulness, he talked of, _sir_ , your enduring faithfulness,” the man countered, walking toward Eliot deliberately. “Now, tell me truly. When you found out he was gone, did you get engaged to your prince that same hour, or did you wait a whole week out of respect for the dead?”

Eliot clenched his fists, his voice crackling with rage. “You mocked me once, never do it again! _I died that day!_ ”

The Man in Black’s attention was drawn suddenly by the sight of horses on the horizon. He pushed past Eliot to look over the edge of the ridge at the Dark King and his guards approaching in the distance. Eliot spun around to glare at him, furious and hurt. With his kidnapper’s back now turned, Eliot raised his hand in a quick tut as he spoke quietly.

“You can die too, for all I care!”

The man spun around just in time to see Eliot launching a spell directly at him. He jumped out of the way, the spell barely missing him. But he was thrown off balance by the action and fell backward over the ridge. Eliot ran over the edge to watch as the Man in Black tumbled violently down the steep hill. As he tumbled and rolled toward the ravine, his words drifted up to Eliot…

“As….you…wish….”

Eliot’s eyes went wide as the realization of the man’s identity flooded his brain. With a loud gasp, he whispered, “Oh, my sweet Quentin, what have I done?” Without hesitation or forethought, Eliot flung himself down the hill, rolling and tumbling behind Quentin as they both fell. Eventually, they both landed at the foot of the ravine a few feet from each other, bruised and cut and breathless.

* * *

The Dark King witnessed the pair disappear from the top of the ridge and brought his troops to a halt. “Disappeared,” he wondered, almost forgetting himself. Then, resuming his air of nobility, continued, “He must have seen us closing in, which might account for his panicking in error. Unless I’m wrong – and I am never wrong – they are headed dead into the fire swamp.”

* * *

Quentin groaned as he began to move his body, forcing it to surrender to his will despite the pain. His mask had flown off during the fall, and his hair was tangled and strewn about his face. Eliot whimpered and groaned next to him. Quentin strained to push himself up to his hands and knees and crawled over to Eliot, settling himself beside Eliot as he braced one arm next to his head. He leaned down and cupped Eliot’s face gently in his other hand.

“Eliot! Can you move at all?”

Eliot smiled weakly up at him. “Move?” He huffed out a laugh. “You’re alive…if you want, I can fly.”

Quentin chuckled weakly above him as he stroked the side of his face, softly pushing his disheveled curls out of his eyes. “I told you I would always come for you,” he said sweetly. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

Eliot furrowed his eyebrows together pensively. “Well,” he said after a beat, “you were dead.”

Quentin smiled, his dimples burning right through Eliot’s chest. “Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.”

Eliot looked into Quentin’s eyes, blinking back tears. “I will never doubt again.”

Quentin grinned and ran his thumb gently over Eliot’s bottom lip soothingly. “There will never be a need.”

Quentin closed the small distance between them and kissed Eliot firmly. Eliot sighed into him, opening easily for him as Q slid his tongue into Eliot’s mouth smoothly, licking into him as though it was feeding his life force. The two held onto each other’s faces possessively as they kissed, moaning into each other’s mouths with hunger and relief, equal parts passion and disbelief. All the sadness and guilt and fear from the past two days melted away in this brief moment, and all that existed was _them_. _This_. Love and tongues and teeth and lips and hands and legs tangled into each other. Eliot’s hands explored Quentin’s body forcefully, as if he was trying to commit it all to memory in case this was a dream. Quentin peppered Eliot’s face with little kisses, smiling up against his stubble, unable to contain his giggles as he beamed, the sensation of all things _Eliot_ wrapping around him and keeping him safe.

Quentin pulled back slightly. “El,” he said, cut off immediately by Eliot’s lips claiming his own. He mumbled into Eliot’s mouth and pulled back again, this time stilling Eliot with a firm hand on his chest. “El, wait, hold on,” he laughed. “Um…I don’t mean to be my own cock block or anything, but…we _are_ still being pursued by the Dark King, and we _really_ should move our asses right about now.”

Eliot sighed in defeat, disappointed. “I know, I know. Fine,” he said, as Q pressed himself up. He offered a hand to Eliot, who gladly took it as he struggled to his feet. The pair raced along the bottom of the ravine toward the swampy area ahead of them. The Dark King’s horse appeared on the top of the cliff, looking down upon them.

“Ha!” said Q when he spotted him. “Your pig fiancé is too late. A few more steps and we’ll be safe in the Fire Swamp.”

Eliot looked at him incredulously. “We’ll never survive,” he said, glancing up at the king nervously.

“Nonsense,” replied Q flippantly, “you’re only saying that because no one ever has.”

Quentin raised himself up to his toes and planted a hard kiss to Eliot’s bruised lips before grabbing his hand and dragging him into the dark swamp.


	8. I Know A Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The secrets of the fire swamp are no match for our boys. But an unexpected secret at the end catches Quentin off-guard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. It's been three months since the last update. I am a horrible person.
> 
> But I pledge (at least) weekly updates from here on out!
> 
> Reunited, our lovers venture into the fire swamp. But the plot twist that awaits them on the other side, Quentin was not prepared for.
> 
> See end notes for some content warnings.

The pair walked cautiously along the rough path leading into the fire swamp. The trees, dripping with thick vines and wilted branches, grew closer together as the air turned thick with a musky humidity that was rather unsettling. The dark canopy reluctantly let in a few stray ropes of sunlight – a subpar comfort to the ominous sense of non-consensual observation that draped around them. Quentin regarded their surroundings thoughtfully.

“It’s not that bad,” he muttered.

Eliot looked at him aghast as he lowered confused eyebrows over widening eyes.

Q offered an explanation. “Well I’m not saying I’d like to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely.”

Eliot continued to stare at him in disbelief for a few tense seconds. Their focus was jarred by a loud popping sound. Q and El looked frantically around them, taking a defensive stance in anticipation of…they had no idea what. Suddenly, a huge flame leapt from the ground directly in front of them, setting Eliot’s pant leg on fire.

“Shit!” Quentin yelled at Eliot let out a high-pitched yelp. Q started to remove his shirt, only to find it stuck on his head. He struggled for a moment trying to wrestle himself out of it, his arms somewhat pinned over his head.

“Uh… _Q?!”_ Came a frantic cry from Eliot.

“ _Fuck_ , just…” Quentin swore as he ripped the neckline of his shirt to get it over his head. He bent down and quickly used it to smother the flames on Eliot’s leg. The two looked at each other, panting heavily. Quentin tried to regain his composure as he put on a false air of flippancy, hoping to avoid sending both of them into a panic.

“Well, um…that…was an adventure,” Q observed. “You ok?” he asked, looking past the charred hem of Eliot’s trousers for any sign of blistering. There was none.

Eliot nodded. “You?” Quentin quirked his eyebrows and gave a little sideways nod to indicate that, apparently, he was fine. As they stood up, they heard a loud popping sound once more. Their heads snapped to a point just to the right of them where the sound had come from. Quentin quickly grabbed Eliot’s wrist and yanked him hard away from the sound, just in time to miss the large flame shooting up from the ground. They both froze as Eliot gripped Q’s shoulders tightly.

“Fuck,” Q whispered. “Fire Swamp sure keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it?” Q looked over at El with a smirk as he grabbed his hand and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss. He slipped his ripped shirt back on, the fabric hanging loosely off of one shoulder which, frankly, made Eliot momentarily forget about being attacked by fire. Cautiously, Quentin slowly started to lead him back through the path, deeper into the swamp.

A few hours later, the pair seemed to have gotten over their initial fears and were pushing through the dense swamp at a quicker pace. They walked along at a relaxed but cautious tempo, Quentin occasionally using his sword to dispatch stray vines that attempted to impede their path. Eliot followed closely as he listened to Q tell the tale of how he somehow managed to be alive after all these years.

“This will all be nothing but an interesting tale to tell our grandkids one day. Reynard’s ship is anchored at the far end, and I mean, I’m ‘Reynard,’ of course.”

Eliot interrupted. “Ok ok wait. How the fuck is that even possible? Reynard has been wreaking havoc on the Fillorian seas for, what, like 20 years? You only left me 5 years ago, Q.”

Quentin smiled. “Yeah it’s, um…I mean you’re not gonna believe this…”

A loud popping sound resonated from a point in front of them. Q pointed his sword toward the source as he and El quickly sidestepped around it just in time to avoid the flame. The couple continued along the path as if nothing had happened.

Quentin resumed. “Ok so like, I wasn’t lying about what I said before. The part about saying ‘please’ – that was true. I guess i-it, caught Reynard’s attention? As did, obviously, my description of how beautiful you are because like…you are insanely fucking gorgeous and I literally could not shut up about it.”

Eliot blushed.

“Finally,” Q explained, “Reynard was like, ‘all right, Q, listen. I’ve never had a valet. You can try it for tonight. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.’ For three years he said that. ‘Good night, Q. Good work. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.’” Quentin’s hands fluttered about him as he was quickly drawn into what Eliot fondly called _nerdgasm mode_ , telling the tale more and more excitedly as he progressed. “It was a-a really interesting time for me because, like, I was learning to fence and do battle magic. Basically anything anyone would teach me. And Reynard and I eventually became friends. And then…”

He paused, looking for the right words.

Eliot’s eyes were huge as he listened to the story like a little kid. “And then what, Q? It can’t be any worse than ‘Reynard and I eventually became friends…’”

Q squinted at him. “I know how that sounds, but hear me out. Reynard had grown so rich that he wanted to retire. So he took me to his cabin and told me his secret. ‘I am not the Dread Pirate Reynard,’ he said. ‘My name is Richard. I inherited this ship from the previous Dread Pirate Reynard, just as you will inherit it from me. The man I inherited it from was not the real Dread Pirate Reynard, either. His name was Haxenpaxen.’ The real Dread Pirate Reynard – a real fucking bastard by the way – had been deposed 15 years ago and last anyone heard was living in a shitty apartment and working as a pizza delivery guy somewhere. So then he explained that the name was the important thing for inspiring the necessary fear. See ‘cause like, no one would surrender to the Dread Pirate Quentin. So we sailed ashore, took on an entirely new crew, and he stayed aboard for a while as first mate, all the time calling me Reynard. Once the crew believed, he left the ship and I have been Reynard ever since. Except, now that we’re together, I shall retire and hand the name over to someone else. Does that…does that all make sense?”

Eliot’s eyebrows scrunched thoughtfully together and he considered the implications of…everything. He took a few steps forward and was suddenly sucked into the ground just in front of Q.

“Eliot!” Quentin screamed. He looked around frantically, trying to think of something, anything, he could use to save his true love. Finding nothing in his physical surroundings that would be helpful, his eyes darted back and forth as he ran through a mental list of tuts. He finally clasped his hands in front of him, swapped his index fingers, followed by his pinkies, then unfolded them, aiming a shot of energy at the sand pit where Eliot had disappeared. Sand nearly exploded out of the pit, revealing a 3-foot hole in the pit. Q could just see the tips of Eliot’s fingers appear over the top of the remaining sand before being sucked back down. He repeated the tut twice more, exposing Eliot’s gasping form, covered with sand. As the sand started sucking Eliot back under, El reached out a hand and wordlessly called telekinetically for a vine from a nearby tree. He grabbed onto it just before the sand swallowed his shoulders and, using a boost from the spell he saw Kady use to climb the cliffs, hoisted himself up the vine until he emerged, coughing and sputtering, on the solid ground of the swampy forest. Quentin rushed to help him up the last few feet and rolled him over to help clear his lungs and throat of the lightning sand. Once he saw that Eliot was able to catch his breath, he threw his arms around his torso and held on for dear life, willing himself not to cry. He had come all this way, through all this bullshit, just to save his true love. He wasn’t about to lose it now.

Eliot was the one who began to cry. He slumped forward, leaning on his hands in defeat. “We’ll never succeed,” he whined. “We may as well die here. And there’s not even any alcohol. Maybe I could find some shrooms…” he trailed off as he began to look around on the ground, unsuccessfully, for anything that might take reality away from him.

“El, no.” Quentin leaned forward to cup the side of his face and bring it close to him. He leaned their foreheads together as he help Eliot’s face steady in both hands, forcing him to look into Quentin’s deep, dark eyes. “El, baby, please. We…we have already succeeded, El. Look…stand up, come on…” Q stood up and helped Eliot to his feet. Quentin wrapped an arm around El as he encouraged his blubbering puddle of a boyfriend to walk forward with him. “I mean, seriously, what are the three terrors of the Fire Swamp? One, the flame spurts. No problem, right? There’s a popping sound that precedes each, so I mean, that’s avoidable. Two, the lightning sand. But like, you were brilliant enough to discover what that looks like,” Eliot shot him a sideways glance, “so in the future we can avoid that, too.”

Eliot froze in his tracks. “Q,” he said, suddenly realizing the third “terror”. “What about the R.O.U.S.’s?”

Quentin shifted nervously. “Rodents of Unusual Size? I don’t actually think they exist.”

Suddenly, Quentin was knocked to the ground by a giant rat-looking creature, about the size of a German Shepherd.

“Quentin!” Eliot screamed. Quentin was pinned under the heavy creature as he struggled to get free. The rodent was strong and muscular, much heavier and yet more flexible than it appeared. It wriggled around powerfully as Quentin tried unsuccessfully to wrestle out of its grasp.

A sudden sharp pain soared through Quentin’s body as the creature bit down into his shoulder. Quentin screamed out in pain. Eliot’s hands were shaking as they tried to form the tuts necessary to cast a spell that would kill the creature. But after a moment of trying to steady himself, he realized it would be too dangerous to attempt to aim a spell at the creature while it was wiggling around with Q in its grasp. He searched his surroundings frantically to find some kind of weapon – a stick, a rock, _anything_ that he could use to dislodge the beast from his love.

With the rodent’s attention on attacking Quentin’s shoulder, Q was able to use his free hand to strike the creature in the eye. The rodent howled and loosened his clamp on Q’s shoulder. Quentin quickly rolled the R.O.U.S. off of him and stumbled to his feet. The creature ran headlong at Eliot, still searching for some kind of weapon. “Quentin!” Eliot yelled as the rodent closed the gap between them. Quentin hardly had time to react before diving forward to latch onto its tail, pulling it back just as its jaws snapped mere inches away from Eliot’s leg. Eliot leapt backward and stumbled over a root sticking out of the marshy ground, landing on his ass with a hard thud that nearly made him see stars. Quentin scrambled onto the creature’s back, using every ounce of strength he had to hold it back away from the man he loved, the man he had spent years trying to get back to. After all this time, there was no way in hell he was going to lose him now.

The rodent flipped Quentin onto his back and sank his teeth deep into the same shoulder it had wounded just moments ago. Quentin let out a low groan of agony and resolution as he gritted his teeth and tried to maintain consciousness through the searing pain.

A few feet away, he heard a familiar popping sound. His eyes darted over to the popping noise as he quickly began rolling with the creature, still very much attached to his shoulder muscle, toward what he hoped would be a very quick ending to this nightmare. He flopped the creature over onto the ground just as a spurt of fire shot from the very same spot, lighting the creature’s back on fire. The R.O.U.S. howled in pain as he let go of Quentin. Eliot shook himself out of his stunned daze just in time to see Q scrambling to his feet in front of a large mass of smoking fur that was exceedingly angry. The rodent struggled to all fours, limbs buckling beneath him. He was wounded enough to be slowed down, but not enough to stop being a danger to a very exhausted-looking Quentin who was standing very much within striking distance.

With a resolve he hadn’t felt since the day he learned of Q’s death, Eliot fixed his eyes on the creature, and with a series of quick, fluid hand motions, sliced the creature’s neck in two. It fell in a lifeless heap at Quentin’s feet.

The swamp seemed suddenly quiet, the noise and adrenaline from the past few minutes subsiding into an uncomfortable silence. The two men looked at each other, panting, frozen for a moment, unsure whether they could even move. The air hung around them, thick and pregnant with potential energy looking for a home. Eliot’s eyes flicked down toward Quentin’s shoulder, bleeding and shredded. Quentin didn’t move.

“Q,” came a wavering voice that sounded like it didn’t want to belong to Eliot but had no choice. “Baby your shoulder,” a tear escaping down his cheek.

Quentin’s trance broke as he reluctantly pulled his eyes away from Eliot and allowed them to trail down toward what used to be his shoulder. His shirt was shredded and blended into the mess of muscle and blood so that it was impossible to actually assess the damage. He glanced back up at Eliot through thick lashes. “Doesn’t hurt,” he shrugged.

“That’s not really a good thing, Q,” muttered Eliot, unsuccessful at masking his concern.

Quentin softened and stepped toward Eliot tenderly. “Hey, El, come here,” he cooed sweetly, reaching out a steady palm to cradle Eliot’s cheek as he closed the distance between them. El let his eyes drift shut for a moment, leaning into the caress. Quentin skimmed his index finger just under Eliot’s earlobe and grasped the back of his neck, pulling him down into a firm but comforting kiss. Eliot pressed forward into the kiss and began to sob, tears streaming down his face freely now as his breath huffed out a stifled staccato against Quentin’s chest. Q pressed them together fully, then hissed out in pain as the nerves in his momentarily-forgotten shoulder aroused from their shock-induced slumber.

“Shit, Q I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby, are you ok?” Eliot whimpered, eyes wide and searching.

“El, El, baby, yes. I’m fine, my love.” Q assured him. Eliot wore his worry on his brow, still desperately roving over Quentin’s shoulder. “Eliot,” Quentin’s voice was dark and commanding now. “I’m _fine_ , baby,” he said, softer this time.

Eliot nodded, uncertain, but accepting, and the two continued toward the faint glimmer of light that threatened the tops of the trees, revealing that they were finally almost home-free.

* * *

The dense mass of trees ended rather abruptly on the other side as Quentin and Eliot stepped out of the fire swamp and into the warm, tired light of a day that was coming to an end. Twilight loomed over the hill, and Quentin’s ship, the Muntjac, was anchored just beyond. The pair walked hand-in-hand toward their would-be freedom, until…

The sound of hoofbeats descended on them from all sides. Quentin and Eliot both stood back to back in a defensive stance, hands at the ready. Over the hill, just ahead, appeared The Dark King and that Dark-Haired Woman who rode at his side. As they came into view, Quentin’s eyes grew wide. A series of emotions – surprise, fear, confusion, sadness, anger – all flickered across his face at once. He didn’t understand what he was seeing as he took in the woman who rode next to The Dark King, apparently his right-hand-man. _Julia?_ He tried to reign in his expression to avoid giving himself away, because as she approached, with her stoic expression, her haughty posture, her cold, emotionless gaze, he realized almost immediately: _That’s not Julia._

“Surrender!” Cried the King, his soldiers on horseback now fully surrounding the couple.

Quentin smirked. “Oh, you, uh, you want to surrender to me? Very well, I accept.”

Eliot looked at him, alarmed. _Smart ass._

The Dark King smirked back. “I give you full marks for bravery – don’t make yourself a fool.”

Quentin looked around at the guards, wielding swords and what appeared to be the Fillorian equivalent of crossbows. “Ah, but how will you capture us? We know the secrets of the Fire Swamp. We can live there quite happily for some time, so whenever you feel like dying, feel free to visit.”

Eliot just rolled his eyes, darting worrisome looks toward the arrows aimed at their heads. _Jesus, this nerdy motherfucker was going to get them killed. After all this!_

The Dark King did not waver. “I will tell you once again. Surrender!”

“Will. Not. Happen.” Spat Q, resolutely.

Eliot looked frantically from one soldier to the other.

“For the last time,” boomed the King, “SURRENDER!”

“DEATH FIRST!” Yelled Q.

Finally, Eliot had had enough of Quentin’s low-key death wish. “Will you promise not to hurt him?” Eliot forced the words out of his mouth like a prayer to a god he didn’t know.

The Dark King shot a glance over to Eliot. “What was that?”

Quentin’s head whirled around to face El. “What was that?”

Eliot sucked his bottom lip to keep it from shaking. “If we surrender, and I return with you, will you promise not to hurt this man?”

Quentin’s eyes didn’t leave Eliot’s face, his brows questioning, searching for a hint as to what he could possibly be up to.

The King straightened himself up, putting on his best performance voice. “May I live a thousand years and never hunt again.”

Eliot looked at Quentin, pleading, as he continued to address the King. “He is a sailor on the Muntjac. Promise to return his to his ship.”

“I swear it will be done,” said the King.

Quentin cupped Eliot’s face in his hands, brows knitted together in confusion. Eliot held back his tears this time. “I thought you were dead once, and it almost destroyed me. I could not bear it if you died again, not when I could save you.”

The Dark King leaned in to whisper to Julia. “Once we’re out of sight, take him back to the Flying Forest and throw him in the Pit of Despair.”

“I swear it will be done,” Julia replied, her gaze empty, voice hollow and cold.

Eliot opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off as The Dark King rode past, swept him up onto his horse, and rode off.

Julia walked her horse slowly toward Quentin, looking down at him like prey. Quentin held her gaze, still seeking answers.

“Come, sir,” she said, “we must get you to your ship.”

Quentin gazed up at her and smirked. “We are magicians. Lies do not become us.”

Julia smirked back at him. “Well spoken, sir.”

Quentin’s eyes snapped suddenly to Julia’s gloved hand.

“What?” Demanded Julia. “What is it?”

Quentin steadied his breathing. “You um, you have six fingers on your right hand,” he said slowly. “Someone was looking for you.”

A guard approached Quentin from behind as Julia waved her hand in a quick tut that left Quentin unconscious. The guard caught him as he slumped over, lowering him to the ground as Quentin’s world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a bit of description of an injury that borders on graphic, along with some magical violence toward the R.O.U.S.


	9. Stuck in the Middle with You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin finds himself in strange surroundings and (almost) familiar faces. Eliot gives an ultimatum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mention of suicide. After the old woman screaming "Booooo" until the end of that section (line divider). Also, there is torture in this chapter, because, you know, THE MACHINE. Nothing too graphic or anything, but it's there.
> 
> Penny is here! And he brings a hint of a backstory to explore later on. We also see the faintest glimmers of Penntin thoughts if you squint, because honestly, that's just too fun to pass up. 
> 
> We start to venture more off the garden path, as it were, in this chapter, but only just...

Quentin’s eyes slowly blinked open, sticky and clouded, to reveal a dimly-lit room. The air was humid, clammy – a chill was present, but the air was still. Less like a breeze and more like…a cave? Was he in a cave? Quentin’s eyes opened fully and roamed about the room. He did indeed appear to be underground. The walls were earthen, dug out and supported by wooden beams. A set of stairs spiraled along one wall up to a door near the ceiling of the chamber – the only exit Quentin could discern. The cavern was lit by flickering torches on the walls. The sound of dripping water filtered in from somewhere nearby.

Quentin tried to sit up, but found himself bound by chains to a large wooden table. He looked down to see that his wounds had been tended to and he had been washed clean. He began inspecting the chains to see if they could be broken when he heard deliberate footsteps approaching him from behind his head. A man appeared – a man who was, for lack of a better word, _hot_. Smooth dark skin and hair, deep honey brown eyes that were fucking intense. He wore a loose, thin muslin shirt that was open in the front – just hanging off of his broad shoulders like it didn’t give a fuck. Q shook a few inappropriate thoughts from his head as he took in the situation.

The man set down a tray of food and what appeared to be a bowl full of liquid and a washcloth. Quentin swallowed the lump in his throat, then put his brave face back on. “Where am I?” he asked.

The man answered back in a raspy, high pitched, monstrous sounding voice, “The Pit of Despair.” He dipped the cloth in the liquid and began patting Quentin’s wounds on his shoulder. Quentin winced at the astringent feeling. The man continued, “Don’t even think abou-” Suddenly the man began coughing, sputtering, hacking, as if trying to get hair out of his throat. Then, resuming in a deeper voice that was much more normal sounding (and beautifully rich, Quentin might add), the man continued, “Don’t even think about trying to escape. The chains are charmed and can’t be broken, even by some more advanced spells.” He drawled on, seemingly annoyed by Quentin’s presence, but diligently cleaning his wounds nonetheless. “And no,” he said after a pause, as if he was responding to a question Quentin hadn’t asked, “no one is going to fucking _rescue_ you, either. The only way in is hidden. Only the Dark King, Captain Wicker, and I know how to get in and out…and yes, the shackles _are_ charmed so you can’t cast. Nice thought, though.”

Quentin’s eyebrows lifted as his mouth dropped slightly.

The man continued, with a distinctly condescending eye roll. “I’m a fucking psychic, moron. Don’t look so shocked.”

Quentin swallowed and wondered how many of his initial _inappropriate_ thoughts the man had heard. He blushed a little as the man continued dressing his wounds.

The man froze for a moment and caught Quentin’s gaze. “And no,” he said, “you can’t drown out your thoughts with… _Taylor Swift?”_

“I am _not_ singing Taylor Swift in my head…” Q began to protest, unconvincingly.

“Fix your fucking wards, Coldwater,” the man barked.

Q worked on his wards.

“Do I know you?” Quentin asked. How did he know his name? Had The King known who he was?

Penny continued his work without acknowledging him. For a moment, Quentin wasn’t sure he had heard his question. After a beat, Penny replied, “I went to Brakebills…for a minute. Before…well, shit went all to hell.”

Quentin felt a pang of guilt wiggle its way into the pit of his stomach. How did he not remember? Penny answered his wordless worry in the next breath. “We had some mutual friends but, no, you didn’t know me. Although, after you and Eliot…well, let’s just say you were kind of _well-known_ around campus.” Q could have sworn he saw the slightest of smirks on Penny’s lips.

“So,” Q changed the subject. “I’m here until I die then?”

The man continued his work without looking up, “Until they kill you, yeah.”

Quentin looked confused. “Then why bother curing me?”

The man explained with indifference. “The Dark King – and the Captain – insist on everyone being healthy before they’re broken.”

Quentin flinched a bit at the reminder of Julia’s involvement with The King. Something wasn’t right. There is no way in hell Julia would ever…but then again, as he noticed earlier, _that_ was not Julia. He stashed it away as a problem to be solved later.

“So they’re planning on torturing me then?”

The man nodded.

“Hmm,” Quentin bluffed, “I can cope with torture.”

The man scoffed.

“What?” asked Q. “Don’t believe me?”

The man quirked his eyebrows as he finished up the last of the wound dressing and began to put his supplies away. “I mean, you survived the Fire Swamp, ok, I’ll give you that. So bravery – a _stupid_ amount of bravery maybe – but nobody withstands _The Machine_ , man. No one.”

The man’s countenance changed slightly. If Quentin didn’t know any better, he would say he almost looked sad? The man paused, regarding Q thoughtfully for a moment. “I’m Penny,” he said.

Q raised his eyebrows suspiciously. “Nice to meet you, Penny,” he said slowly.

Penny scoffed and turned away. Quentin watched him go about his business, putting away supplies, chopping vegetables, preparing what Q assumed would be their next meal.

Q decided to go out on a limb. “So, you don’t seem too excited about, you know, torturing me at all. That not exactly your kink or what?”

Penny shot him an irritated look. Quentin shot back a look of bratty innocence that he knows would have had El eating out of his hands.

Penny turned back to his work, but decided to take the bait anyway. “Look I got roped into this job thanks to a fucked up contract I signed and now I’m stuck here whether I wanna be or not. I didn’t exactly realize torture would be part of the deal”

“Why would you sign a contract without knowing what it entailed?” Q prompted.

“Because I was kind of in a fucking hurry, ok?” Penny snapped. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

There was definitely a backstory there that Q was going to leave alone for the moment.

“Fair enough,” said Q. “So like, what, you just gave yourself over to the Dark Side, then? No way around it, might as well be an evil bastard?” Quentin knew the buttons he was pushing now.

Penny shot him a look of warning. “I never said that,” he spat. “I play along, though.”

“Why?” asked Q, honestly curious at this point.

Penny walked over to Quentin and sat down next to the table to which Q was shackled. He lowered his voice as he glanced around. “Maybe I’m trying to figure out how they work.”

Quentin’s mouth quirked up into a slight smile. A small glimmer of hope hopped up into his chest, which was a strange feeling for someone who was magically chained to a table in an underground torture chamber. _Still_ , he thought, _if I play my cards right, I might still have a chance of getting out of here…_

* * *

Eliot staggered through a lonely corridor in castle Whitespire, a bottle of gin in one hand, and a bottle of rum in the other. He shuffled past an open doorway that led to The Throne Room. As he stepped past the doorway, he stopped, took two or three steps backward, slowly peered in to see The Dark King and Julia, frozen and watching him. He raised one of his bottles in salutation, then continued down his path.

“He’s been like that since the Fire Swamp,” The Dark King explained. “It’s probably the stress of planning our kingdom’s anniversary celebration that’s upsetting him.”

Julia nodded in agreement. “Of course,” she agreed.

* * *

_The next day, Eliot was married to The Dark King. As Fillorians celebrated outside the castle, Eliot was presented to them, this time as their King-Consort. He walked slowly through the archway, just as before. The crowd of people bowed as she passed, except for one…an old woman, hunched and wrinkled, shouting, “Boo! Booooo!”_

_Eliot looked at the woman, stunned. “Why are you…booing me?”_

_“Because you had love in your hands,” the woman scolded, “and you gave it up!”_

_Eliot looked distressed, “But they would have killed Quentin if I hadn’t done it.”_

_The woman refused to let up. “Your true love lives and you marry another!” She spoke now to the crowd. “True love saved him in the Fire Swamp and he treated it like garbage. And that’s what he is! The King of Refuse! So bow to him. Bow to the King of Slime. The King of Filth. The King of Putrescence. Boo! Boo! Rubbish! Filth! Slime! Muck! Boo! Boo! BOOOOOO!”_

Eliot jolted awake and sat straight up in his bed. He was drenched in sweat, panting and trembling, tears streaking his face. It was ten days until the wedding. Eliot’s nightmares were growing steadily worse. Eliot jumped out of bed, disturbingly sober, and stormed off toward The Dark King’s chambers.

Eliot burst into the King’s chambers to find him talking with Julia. Julia stood up hurriedly, her eyes working to conceal something Eliot couldn’t quite read.

“It comes to this,” Eliot panted. “I love Quentin. I always have. I know now that I always will. If you tell me I must marry you in ten days, trust me when I say that I will be dead by morning.”

Stunned, The Dark King rose slowly to his feet. He looked Eliot up and down thoughtfully. He pressed his lips together, inhaled sharply, then began to speak. “I could never cause you grief, Eliot,” he said quietly. “Consider our wedding off.”

Eliot raised his eyebrows in surprise, but quickly composed his face to conceal his relief.

The King spoke to Julia. “You returned – Quentin, was it? – to his ship, correct?”

“Yes,” Julia lied.

The King continued. “Then we will simply alert him.”

Eliot eyed him suspiciously. The Dark King resumed, taking slow steps toward Eliot, “Darling, are you certain he still wants you?” Eliot furrowed his brows in confusion. The Dark King halted about a foot away from Eliot. Although shorter than Eliot, The King had a way of _looking down_ on him that made Eliot squirm uncomfortably. “After all,” The King prodded, “it was you who did the leaving in the Fire Swamp. Not to mention that – _pirates_ are not known to be men of their words.”

Eliot steeled his nerves, raised himself up to his full height, and took a step closer to The King, placing them a few inches apart. Eliot nearly missed the slight waver in The King’s countenance as Eliot towered over him. Interesting. Eliot would file that one away for later.

“My Q will always come for me,” Eliot replied coolly.

The King blinked up at Eliot and took a deep breath. His scheming eyes narrowed. “I suggest a deal,” he boomed, his energy renewed. He strode quickly over to his desk and grabbed a pen and piece of paper. “You write down what you want to say, and I will send my four most reliable bunnies to deliver the message. If Quentin replies and wants you back, bless you both. If not…” he reached Eliot once again and placed the pen and paper gently in his hands. His voice softened as he glanced up at Eliot. “if not…please consider _me_ as an alternative to suicide.”

Eliot narrowed his eyes, then slowly nodded his ascent.

* * *

“Your Prince – Eliot – he’s really is…something, isn’t he?” Julia spoke to The King as they walked through a grove of trees. The sunlight filtered in warmly as the day began to come to a close. “I mean, a little basic and predictable perhaps,” Julia mused, “but he has definite… _appeal_.”

The King flashed her a knowing smile. “Yes, I know. The Fillorians are quite taken with him. You know, it’s strange. When I hired Alice to have him murdered on our engagement day, I thought that was pretty clever. But it’s going to be much more moving when I kill him myself on our wedding night.” The King strolled along at a leisurely pace, tilting his head upward pensively toward the tops of the trees. Julia began to look around at the trunks of the trees, searching for something. “Once Loria is blamed, Fillory will be truly outraged. They’ll demand we go to war.”

Julia began to inspect the tree in front of them more closely now, apparently finding the one she was searching for. “Now,” she muttered to herself, “where is that secret knot? Fuck, it’s impossible to find.” After pressing firmly on several knots along the side of the tree, she apparently hit the correct one, and a small door revealed itself on the trunk of the tree with a loud _creak_. A strair case was barely visible leading downward into the dark interior. “Are you coming down into the pit today?” She asked The King. “Quentin’s got his strength back. I’m starting him on The Machine tonight.” A wicked smirk rippled across her face.

The King thought for a moment. “Julia,” he began, “you know how much I love watching you work. But…I’ve got my country’s anniversary to arrange, my husband to murder, and Loria to frame for it,” he explained in a casual, matter-of-fact tone. “I’m swamped.”

Julia nodded absently. “Get some rest,” she said flatly. “If you haven’t got your health, you haven’t got anything.” She flashed him a malicious smile, then disappeared down the dark staircase as the tree-door closed behind her.

* * *

Quentin sat up on the side of the table, eating a stew of some kind. Penny sat across from him in a chair, dipping a piece of bread into his own bowl of stew. They appeared to be continuing a casual conversation.

“So,” Quentin muttered, his mouth full of stew, “you really indentured yourself to The Dark King for the rest of your life,” he grabbed a cup of water and took a few huge gulps, “because of a woman that you…were hooking up with?”

Penny looked up from his meal and shot Quentin a look. “You didn’t know her,” he snapped. Quentin stifled an eye roll and turned his attention back to his meal with a shrug. “Besides, it wasn’t like that,” Penny finished.

“Ok,” Q conceded. “But I mean still,” Q finished up the last bite before licking his fingers clean one by one. Penny’s mouth dropped open for a quick moment before he scolded his own thoughts and trained his focus on his dinner. “I mean, it’s your _whole life._ You probably won’t ever get to see her again.”

Penny stared at him. “You do get the irony of _you_ chastising _me_ for the stupid shit I do for love, right?”

Q rolled his eyes and reluctantly yielded his point. A few moments passed in silence as they each washed and dried their dishes and put them away. Q still wasn’t quite sure how he had managed to convince Penny to take off the shackles for a while. Or course, Quentin _might_ have let his wards leak a bit to let Penny know how curious he was about his role in The King’s plan. It didn’t take too long to figure out that Quentin’s knack for long-term planning outweighed his interest in short-term solutions such as escaping an underground dungeon hidden god-knows-where in an unfamiliar world. They’d actually become quite chatty over the last few days. Quentin was starting to piece things together.

“So what was her name?” Quentin inquired.

Penny regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before deciding it was safe to answer. “Kady,” he said.

Quentin froze. “Wait. Kady? Did you say Kady? Like…tall, dark, thick curls, could beat the shit out of the entire royal army with one hand tied behind her back?”

Penny stood up and started walking toward Quentin. “You know her?” He didn’t even try to hide the glimmer of hope in his eye. “What, where…how do…do you know where she is? How the fuck…”

“She…” Quentin didn’t quite know how to put this. “she’s one of the three magicians who captured Eliot. I fought her when -”

“ _You fought her!?_ Penny exclaimed. His eyes went wide. Quentin could swear he saw him take a small step back. “Jesus fucking Christ, no wonder you’re an arrogant little shit who thinks he can ‘cope with torture.’ If you took on Kady in battle magic and survived, my hat’s off to you, man.”

Quentin chuckled shyly. “Well I mean, she didn’t exactly go down easily.”

Penny laughed full out this time. “Yeah I bet she didn’t,” she chuckled. “That doesn’t make any sense though. She doesn’t have any stake in this shit. She must have been hired out by someone. You didn’t…she’s alive though, right?” The reality of someone else winning a round of battle magic with Kady suddenly dawned on Penny.

Quentin jumped in quickly. “No, no, yes, she’s…yes, she’s fine. Alive and well, or was when I left her.”

Penny visibly relaxed and nodded. Quentin opened his mouth to say something else when a loud creak rang through the chamber.

“Oh fuck,” said Penny. “Quick, lie down. Get these back on you,” Penny ran over to the table and grabbed the shackles as Quentin nodded quickly and lied back down, placing his arms and legs in position. Penny clicked the last shackle in place just in time before Julia appeared at the top of the staircase. Quentin watched her descend deliberately, looking and acting nothing like herself. Her posture, her countenance, even her features were all wrong.

Julia strolled silently over to Quentin and began wheeling the table toward the enormous contraption at the far end of the room. The Machine was a huge conglomeration of gears, belts, pulleys, throttles, and pistons. Julia parked Quentin’s table just underneath an overhang that jutted out from the front of the machine. Several rubber suction cups hung from a broad beam overhead, their origin unseen. Penny followed and began attaching the suction cups to Quentin’s body – his chest, head, hands, and feet. He shot Quentin an apologetic look as his did so.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Julia mused, looking up at The Machine in admiration and awe. Her fingers grazed the smooth wood as she pet the machine like a beloved pet. “It took me half a lifetime to invent it.” Quentin puzzled at that, since he knows for a fact that Julia – _his­ Julia_ – was alive and well in a hedge witch bar when he last saw her 5 years ago. He’s pretty sure he would have known if she had been working on a medieval torture machine since age twelve.

Julia slowly walked around the large table in the room to sit down in a chair behind it. She reached into one of the baskets beneath the table and took out a large book and a pen. “I’m sure you’ve discovered my deep and abiding interest in pain,” she continued. “At present” ( _who talks like that?)_ “I’m writing the definitive work on the subject. So I want you to be totally honest with me on how The Machine makes you feel.”

She motioned for Penny to go over to the dial just behind Quentin’s head. It consisted of a tall board with the numbers 1 to 50 along one side, with a moveable arm that could be positioned at any of the numbers by clicking into place on an adjacent gear toward the interior of The Machine. Penny pushed the arm to “1”.

The Machine roared to life. Water poured down a chute onto a wheel, which set a number of gears into motion as pistons pumped up and down and wheels began to spin faster and faster. Quentin’s body convulsed as his back arched him nearly off the table. His entire body was shaking in pain as a loud, torturous scream was ripped from his throat. His muscles tensed, veins popping up to the surface of his arms and legs. Sweat poured over his face and his eyes slammed shut of their own accord, as if they couldn’t bear to be present. Quentin felt like he was being ripped apart in every direction over and over again but couldn’t die or pass out to escape it. After what seemed like an eternity, but was, in reality, only about ten seconds, Julia motioned to Penny to move the arm back down to “0”, and The Machine went quiet.

Quentin lie on the table, gasping and panting, limbs dead and heavy on the hard surface of the wooden table beneath him. The room was disturbingly silent except for Quentin’s gasps. Julia opened the large book in front of her to a blank page and began writing, apparently unmoved by the man begin tortured a few feet away from her.

“As you know,” Julia began to explain, calmly, “the concept of the suction pump in centuries old. Really, that’s all this is. Except that instead of sucking water, I’m sucking life.” Quentin’s breathing slowly caught up with him and began to slow. His eyes were still glazed over and he struggled to retain consciousness. Julia continued, looking coolly at Quentin, “I’ve just sucked one year of your life away. I might one day go as high as five, but I really don’t know what that would do to you. So let’s just start with what we have, shall we? Now tell me – what did this do to you? And remember, this is for posterity, so be honest…how do you feel?”

Quentin wobbled his head back and forth, the only part of himself he was apparently able to control. He was incapable of speech, and tears dripped down the sides of his temples and into his hair as he began to sob uncontrollably. Julia looked at him with a smirk for a moment, then turned her attention to her book and began to write. “Interesting,” she mused. Quentin cried himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed that little snippet of torture. 
> 
> Next chapter carries some smut with it, so look forward to that ;)


	10. Into the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fen likes shrooms. Kady is the Brute Squad. Fucking Todd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More smut! This is my first venture into writing smut that does not contain dicks, so be kind. That being said, we get a little more backstory here and set up some interesting plot twists for later. So enjoy :)

The King sat at his desk in his chambers. It was morning, a few days before the wedding was to take place. A man appeared at the door, smallish, timid, and anxious, with an unimpressive mass of short brown curls on top of his head.

“Todd!” The Dark King commanded shortly.

The man bowed, then entered the room and kneeled down next to The King. “Your majesty,” he spat out, almost tripping over the words.

The King continued, “As my most loyal assistant, and in preparation for your command of my Royal Security Force, I trust you with this secret: Assassins form Loria are infiltrating the Darkling Woods and plan to murder my groom on our wedding night.”

Todd looked confused. “Um…my sources haven’t heard anything about that…”

He was interrupted by a sudden “ahem” from the doorway. Eliot stood stoically at the entrance to The King’s chambers. “Any word from Quentin?” he inquired.

The King and Todd stood abruptly, caught off guard by the intrusion. The King quickly worked to compose himself. “Not yet, my angel. Please have some patience.”

Eliot pursed his lips defiantly. “He _will_ come for me,” he asserted.

“Of course,” replied The King. Eliot gave him a look (of warning?) and glided out of the room, down the hallway.

The King and Todd returned to their previous hushed postures. “He will not be murdered,” The King demanded. “By the night before the wedding, I want The Darkling Woods emptied and every inhabitant arrested.”

Todd’s eyes widened. “But, um, I mean…most of them will resist. My regular officers won’t be enough to -”

“Form a brute squad then!” The King shouted. Todd’s mouth snapped shut as he gave a small nod. The King composed himself once again. “I want the Woods emptied before I wed.”

“It won’t be easy,” Todd protested.

“Try ruling the world sometime,” The King smirked.

* * *

Early the next day, the Darkling Woods was full of hollering and shouting. The forest had become a safe haven for outlaws in Fillory – an unofficial sanctuary from The Dark King’s new Royal Security Force. Without warning, the Force had now descended upon the Darkling Woods, rounding up every inhabitant and muscling them into carts to be transported to the royal dungeons. The Security Force had paid some of the more financially desperate outlaws to form their new Brute Squad. These new enforcers used any means necessary – violent if need be – to round up those who resisted. Todd rode through the chaos on horseback, looking confused and lost, as usual. He stopped one of the larger enforcers. “Is everybody out now?” he asked.

“Almost,” the officer replied. “There’s a woman giving us some trouble.”

“Well you give _her_ some trouble,” Todd commanded. Feeling pleased with himself, he rode off to follow the last cart of prisoners.

* * *

The officer stepped slowly out of the dense forest into a small clearing. Fen lay on the ground, propped up against the side of a small shack. She held The Leo Blade in one hand, and a handful of sketchy-looking mushrooms in another. She was clearly intoxicated, and was talking/shouting to herself in a sing-song voice. “I am waiting for you, Alice,” she called out to the air, swinging the knife recklessly in front of her. “You told me to go back to the beginning, so I have. This is where I am, and this is where I’ll s-stay.” She took a large bite of her fistful of mushrooms. “I will not be moved!”

“Hey!” the officer yelled.

Fen lazily flopped her head in his general direction, indifferent. “I do not budge. Keep your ‘hay’ for your horses. Ha!” She giggled to herself at her pun.

“The King gave orders…” the officer continued, taking a few tentative steps closer.

Fen jolted forward, lunging on her hands and knees toward the officer, swinging the blade wildly at him. “So did Alice! When a job goes wrong, you go back to the beginning. And this is where we got the job, so it’s the beginning. And I’m staying until Alice comes…”

The officer called out to someone over Fen’s shoulder. “You! Brute! Come here!”

“I…am…waiting…for…Alice…” Fen slurred.

“Perhaps she’s at the Palace,” came a familiar voice behind her. Fen looked up to see Kady, smiling down at her. “Hello,” she said softly.

Fen’s face softened. “It’s you,” she smiled.

“True,” replied Kady.

The officer took a step toward the pair as Kady let loose a powerful blast from a one-handed tut ( _what, how?)_ slamming him into a tree, unconscious. Kady looked down at Fen. “You don’t look so good,” she said.

Fen huffed a puff of air in Kady’s face in protest, waving her hand dismissively. Kady cringed and pulled her face away. “Jesus, you don’t smell so good, either.”

Fen chuckled. “Perhaps not, but I feel fine,” she managed, just before passing out at Kady’s feet.

* * *

As Kady nursed Fen back to health, she told her of Alice’s capture by The Dark King and the existence of Captain Wicker, who happened to have six fingers on her right hand and was the King’s most trusted counsel. Considering Fen’s lifelong search, she handled the news surprisingly well…

After carefully cleaning the stew off of Fen’s face, Kady resolved never again to tell her distressing or exciting news while she was sitting in front of a bowl of steaming hot stew. Fen was passed out cold. Again. Kady took great care in reviving Fen with a series of water-dowsing attacks she had modified to be…well, _less_ aggressive than usual. Fen woke with a startled gasp, as she lay stretched out on the floor, drenched in ice cold water.

“Ember’s nutsack!” Fen yelled as she came to.

“Nice to have you back,” Kady beamed.

Fen shook the water from her hair, then grabbed at her knife, staggering herself upright, and took an offensive stance, blade at the ready. “Ok, so the six-fingered woman. Where is she? So I may kill her.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on there, buttercup. She’s at Castle Whitespire with The King.”

Fen dropped her stance and nodded. “Ok. Ok, yeah, so let’s go.”

“Yo,” Kady yelled, grabbing Fen’s wrist. “Slow down. You can’t just go charging in like that. Trust me. I know what we’re working with here. The gate is guarded by 30 guards. I’m good but…not that good.”

“How many could you handle?” Fen looked at Kady hopefully.

Kady thought for a moment. “I dunno, like maybe ten?”

Fen stared for a moment and counted on her fingers. “Leaving…20 for me?” She sighed. “Even at my best I could never defeat that many at once.” She sank down to the floor. “I need Alice to plan. I can’t…I can’t come up with strategies like that.”

Kady scoffed. “Yeah, well, she’s apparently been captured by The King so, I don’t think she’ll be able to help us any time soon. Why don’t we stay here and get you feeling a little better first. We can rest and come up with a plan tonight.” Kady sat down next to Fen and put her arm around Fen’s shoulders, pulling her in close. Fen relaxed into the comfort of it.

Kady had been through thick and thin with Fen when they worked for Alice. Alice could sometimes be…a little harsh. Kady deflected her abuses as best as she could, and Fen was always grateful for the way Kady would joke around with her and keep her laughing. The truth was, Fen had missed Kady. She hadn’t really let herself feel just how much. After being defeated by The Man in Black, Fen locked herself away in The Darkling Woods, feeling quite sorry for herself, truth be told. Fen hadn’t tasted defeat since she was a teenager. Her pride was wounded. It hadn’t been more than a week, but she had grown so used to the company of Kady and Alice, she wasn’t really sure which direction she should go from here. After spending the last few days high on shrooms from the Flying Forest, Kady was a warm blanket she sorely needed. She snuggled into the embrace and nuzzled her face against Kady’s strong form, never wanting to emerge from this delightful cocoon.

Kady shifted so she could get her legs out from underneath her and give Fen a better support. She had missed this. She and Fen used to huddle close during the cold Fillorian nights while they were traveling with Alice. Kady put on the air of alpha-protector to the rest of the world, but Fen was one of the few people who knew that her armor was expertly forged from only the finest anxiety trauma could buy. Kady was a bundle of nerves all wound up and ready to spring on anyone who dared get too close. She had a peculiar talent for taking raw, anxious energy and turning it into righteous anger and, yes, vengeful rage. Fen would be lying if she said she didn’t find Kady’s special brand of emotional alchemy fascinating to a borderline unhealthy degree.

Kady played her part in protecting Fen from Alice’s stings, but on cold, sleepless nights, it was Fen who tended to Kady’s wounds with laughter and soft, tender stories of happier times; silly little things that eased Kady into a world devoid of responsibility and guilt. No more shame. No more fuck ups. Just Fen with her ridiculous Fillorian children’s games, fairy tales, and superstitions. Memories of home that Fen painted so vividly, Kady almost felt like they were her own.

The pair had been inseparable during those months, and after Kady’s defeat by The Man in Black, she had searched for her companion. Her best friend. The closest thing to family she had known in a decade. But the Darkling Woods were dense and confusing, and navigating them wasn’t the simplest matter. After a few days of being hungry and thirsty, she reluctantly decided she had no choice but to take up work where she could find it, and that just so happened to be with the new Brute Squad commissioned by The Dark King.

As much as Kady hated to find herself associated with The King, she welcomed the opportunity to find out as much as she could about the inner workings of Castle Whitespire. Her efforts to pick the brains of whichever outlaws she could coerce in the Darkling Woods only went so far. Sure, she had acquired quite a bit of information about the wedding, the Captain, and the Security Force, but none of this led her to what she really wanted to know: Where. The Fuck. Was Penny.

She hadn’t even really gotten a chance to say good-bye to him. After she had been captured by the Security Force during a job she knew damn better than to take, Penny had made a deal with The King so quickly that Kady didn’t even have the time to object. She did anyway, of course…loudly, violently, and not without bloodshed, but when all was said and done, it was too late. The deal was sealed, and Penny was gone. He had indentured himself to The Crown, and Kady, whether she liked it or not, had been traded…to Alice.

And then she had met Fen. Fen was…absolutely ridiculous. Goofy and, ok, a bit simple, but silly in an endearing way. Something Kady needed just then. What struck Kady about Fen was just how well she seemed able to hide her depth from the rest of the world. She was clearly a product of Fillory – hide your feelings and pretend they don’t exist so as not to inconvenience anyone. She was, at first glance, the epitome of Fillorian _pleasantry_. It had been hammered into her as a young child with every strike of her blademaker-father’s hammer against the hypnotizing red glow of Fillorian steel. He molded her, shaped and sharpened her, forged her in the fires of Fillorian patriarchy and given her a deadly edge.

Kady had spent countless long, cool nights, sitting by the fire, tipsy and blissful, listening to Fen ramble on about her father and the weapon-filled shop she called home as a child. He was not the only blademaker in Fillory, but what made him the best was not the perfection of his craft – it was the surprise of it. Each blade was made according to the magic that surrounded its owner. He studied and trained and knew every technical detail of his trade, but the intuitive _feeling_ he placed into each work of art he created was what kept his customers coming back year after year. When each customer would return to his shop to pick up their blade, grasp it for the first time and gasp in surprise at the way it fit them like a lover gently pressing up to meet them – no one else in Fillory had ever been able to rival that.

Fen’s father poured pure Wellspring _life_ into everything he created, and Fen was no exception. Exploring Fen was like…sitting down to watch _O Brother, Where Art Thou_ for some light-hearted comedy, then realizing 20 minutes in that you’re balls-deep in _The Odyssey_. Sure, she could be enjoyed for the simple, surface-dwelling Fillorian most of society assumed of her, but when Kady listened to her recounting memories as if any moment they would suddenly spring back to life, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling at the little rushes of magic that seeped out of the cracks in that carefully forged demeanor when she thought no one was looking.

What started off as a nice distraction ended up being, well, the closest friendship – relationship in general – that Kady had ever had aside from Penny. Kady hadn’t exactly planned on how her heart would jump into her throat when she saw Fen in front of the broken down little shack that day, but there it was. After everything she had been through, Kady knew better than to spend her life waiting for tomorrow. Fen was here. Fen was now. And Kady…well, shit. Kady _wanted_ her.

What was not helping matters was the fact that Fen was currently nuzzling her face into the side of Kady’s breast like a puppy looking for warmth. Kady took a deep inhale and closed her eyes as Fen’s arms snaked around her waist and pulled her closer. Kady’s breathing deepened as she let her head fall back against the end of the bed behind her. She let herself relax into the warmth of Fen’s hands gently moving over her back and side. As her head lolled off to the side toward Fen, her eyes slowly opened. She was startled to see Fen’s eyes, honest and open, looking up at her through long lashes, just inches from her own. She noticed Fen visibly swallow as her breath stilled, then without warning, Fen surged upward to capture Kady’s mouth in a gentle kiss. Kady’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Fen pulled back just as quickly, and Kady chased her lips for a moment before snapping her eyes open to see the panic setting in on Fen’s face.

“I’m sorry, I-I-I…” Fen stammered, trying to hide her embarrassment. Kady’s mouth hung open as she quickly tried to process everything about this moment. As her brain finished buffering, Kady blinked herself back into reality and did the only thing she could think to do in the moment – she lunged forward and wrapped a strong hand around the back of Fen’s neck, pulling her forward into a soft but passionate kiss. She could feel Fen tense, then immediately relax against her as she deepened the kiss. One of Fen’s hands cupped the side of Kady’s face tenderly as the other slid upward to tangle in her thick curls. Fen opened generously for Kady as Kady slid her tongue past her lips, brushed it gently over the edges of her teeth, and danced it around her own tongue in soft, slow circles. Fen let out a high-pitched sound that made Kady lightheaded as she licked into her mouth, exploring, melting, tasting…

Fen pushed forward and climbed into Kady’s lap, straddling her on the floor as Kady’s back pressed against the foot of the bed. Kady smiled against her mouth and let out a low chuckle. “Someone’s eager,” she laughed as her hands slid down Fen’s back.

Fen arched her hips back slightly as Kady’s fingertips gently brushed her skin just under the hem of her shirt. “You have no idea,” Fen said breathlessly. She shot heated daggers into Kady’s eyes as she rested their foreheads together. “You’re… _gods_ you’re so beautiful,” she breathed, her hands trailing down Kady’s neck and over her smooth, muscled shoulders. She leaned forward and began sucking at a spot on her neck. Kady’s eyes fluttered shut as she dug her fingertips into Fen’s hips and pulled them down to press tightly into her own.

“Maybe we should take this to the bed,” whispered Kady. Fen nodded enthusiastically and practically leapt to her feet. She grabbed Kady’s hand – _why did that feel so electric?_ – and lead her to the bed. She began climbing onto the mattress when suddenly Kady yanked her back by her wrist and wrapped her arm around her, pulling Fen into her so they were pressed together nose to nose. Kady placed a warm hand on Fen’s lower back and pressed their hips together as she slotted her thigh between Fen’s legs. Her other hand grasped the back of Fen’s head as she leaned in and kissed her hard, fucking her tongue into her mouth and wringing out the most delightful noises from Fen’s throat. She began to roll her hips forward, rubbing her thigh hard against the warm, wet heat she found there. Fen’s hips rolled in response, their rhythms syncing quickly as wetness began to seep through onto Kady’s leg.

Kady pulled back from the kiss abruptly with a smirk on her face, then pushed Fen backward onto the bed before climbing on top of her. Fen scooted backward to straighten herself out – give them more room – and rested her head on the pillow as Kady straddled her. Kady leaned forward and pressed wet kisses down Fen’s neck, over her collarbone, trailing downward as she slowly unbuttoned Fen’s shirt. Fen panted below her and tightened her hands in Kady’s curls. Kady pulled open Fen’s shirt as she licked a long stripe between her breasts, cupping them both as she sucked a dark mark into the side of her neck. Fen moaned and tugged on Kady’s shirt, shoving her hands underneath the fabric to glide over her back.

Kady’s kisses moved back downward, and Fen arched up off the bed as Kady flicked her tongue against a hard nipple. She smiled knowingly and doubled her efforts, sucking and licking over Fen’s sensitive nipple as her fingers found the other, rolling and twisting and wringing moan after pornographic moan from Fen’s lips. Fen writhed underneath her, trying to arch up into Kady’s touch as Kady pressed her back down into the bed.

Fen grabbed Kady’s free hand and pressed it between her legs. Kady obliged and began rubbing over her pants before pulling back and slipping her hand under the waistband. She wove her fingers through the soft hair, reaching lower, gliding through soft folds as she felt her fingertip dip into the wetness there, eliciting a soft gasp from Fen.

“Jesus, you’re wet,” said Kady as she teased her entrance with slippery fingertips. Kady looked up to watch her reaction as she slid a wet finger inside her. Fen pressed the back of her head into the pillow as she let her legs fall open. Kady took the invitation and began to slowly kiss her way down Fen’s body, over her smooth stomach. Fen tugged her pants down her thighs and Kady helped her wiggle the rest of the way out of them as she slowly thrust two fingers in and out.

She paused as she hovered over her pubic bone, looking up at Fen through heavy lids and dark lashes. “This ok?” She asked. Fen lifted her head up to look down at her. Her pupils were blown, red splotches decorated her neck and chest.

“Yes,” Fen managed to push out. “Gods yes.”

Kady placed her hands on the inside of Fen’s thighs and pressed them open as she flattened her tongue and dragged it against her pussy, a long, smooth pass that made Fen relax and drop her legs open even more, inviting Kady in. She flicked her tongue over her clit before wrapping her arms under and around Fen’s thighs and diving in. Kady was spurred on by the absolutely _obscene_ sounds coming from Fen as she ate her out, alternately sucking on her clit and thrusting her tongue inside her. Kady took her time, exploring every crevice, fold, hill, and valley, noting what made Fen’s breath hitch, what made her tense, shake, or cry out. Fen knotted one hand in Kady’s hair, pulling and pushing, directing her, while the other hand twisted in the blankets beneath them. Kady released one arm from around Fen’s thigh to press her hand onto her hip, holding her down as Fen tried desperately to thrust up into Kady’s warm mouth. Kady pressed harder against her now, rolling her tongue expertly against her clit.

Fen began to shift her legs underneath her, wiggling her hips trying to find the right angle. Kady replaced her mouth with the heel of her hand, pushing two fingers of her other hand inside her and crooking her fingers up to press into her g-spot. Fen cried out a half-laugh-half-gasp as Kady pressed up into her. Fen began to shake as the steady pressure of Kady’s palm rubbing against her mound brought her closer to climax.

“Fuck. _Fuck_ , Kady, please…don’t stop…I’m…so close…” Fen panted out.

“Oh yeah?” said Kady, practically _sweating_ out confidence, which, damn, really did it for Fen, apparently. “You gonna come for me, baby? God you’re so fucking wet…”

“ _Fuck, Kady, you can’t…you can’t just say that oh my gods…”_ Fen’s muscles were trembling, just on the edge of orgasm.

“Oh,” Kady smiled, “so you like it when I talk dirty to you?” Fen nodded frantically. Kady lowered her voice. “Is that why you’re so close for me?” Kady’s voice was positively _predatory_ , and damn if it wasn’t _doing it_ for Fen. Kady lowered her voice to just above a whisper as she stretched up, brushing her lips against the shell of Fen’s ear. “Is that why your pussy’s so wet for me?” Kady hissed, pushing her over the edge.

Fen screamed as she came, her muscles clenching and trembling as Kady felt her pulsing around her slick fingers. Fen batted her hand away once it became too sensitive. She panted for a few seconds, allowing her limbs to relax, then looked at Kady heatedly.

“Again,” she said.

Kady quirked the corners of her mouth up before pressing her hand between Fen’s legs once again. She dipped her fingers inside to lube them up a little more before rubbing against Fen’s now-ultra-sensitive clit and within seconds she could feel Fen pulsing beneath her fingers once again. Fen came twice more with a few breathless “ah”s before ripping Kady’s shirt off over her head and flipping them over.

Fen licked over every inch of Kady’s breasts as she nuzzled into her flesh, seemingly trying to touch every part of her simultaneously, like she couldn’t get enough. Frankly, she couldn’t, and neither could Kady. Kady, who was usually so “in control” (periods of vengeful rage notwithstanding), was taken aback by Fen’s…enthusiasm. Fen had nearly ripped her shirt off of her and was currently about to do the same with her pants. Kady lifted her hips off the bed as Fen yanked her pants forcefully down her legs and threw them across the room. Fen laid herself out, covering Kady’s body, and gave her an obscenely filthy kiss before rolling onto her back, dragging Kady with her.

Kady chuckled. “Wait, didn’t we just do this?” Fen winked – _winked at her, Jesus this woman was killing her_ – and pushed Kady up off of her. Kady was momentarily confused as Fen manipulated her body and pulled on Kady’s legs to straddle her. She then tugged on the back of her thighs and slid herself downward in between Kady’s open legs as she knelt on the bed over her.

“Oh fuck,” said Kady as she finally took the hint and let her legs slide open so she was sitting gently on Fen’s face. Fen wrapped her arms around Kady’s upper thighs and pulled her down as she slid her tongue inside Kady’s wet entrance. Fen’s muffled moans went straight to Kady’s clit as she rocked her hips gently back and forth, trying to still herself.

Fen pulled back just enough to look up at Kady with lustful eyes and say, “ride me,” before diving back in.

“Shit,” Kady gritted out as she began rolling her hips down into Fen’s mouth. Fen rolled her tongue hard against Kady’s clit as she sucked and moaned around her. Fen’s eyes rolled back in her head as Kady arched back and grinded wildly. She felt a soft hand grab her own and place it in Fen’s hair. Kady grabbed it and pulled, drawing a piercing moan from Fen’s throat as her eyes slammed shut in ecstasy. She leaned forward to rest her other hand on the wall as she pulled harder, riding Fen’s _ridiculously skilled_ mouth to climax. She looked back to see Fen’s hand rubbing her own clit as she ate Kady out and _god_ if that wasn’t the hottest thing…Kady came with a yell as her body contracted and threw her forward. Fen’s orgasm shot through her seconds later. They both froze, Kady lifting up slightly to allow Fen to breathe as they panted and tried to regain use of their limbs.

Kady swung her leg around and flopped herself onto her back, her head resting along Fen’s thigh and her feet up on the pillow. The two lay there for a few minutes, trembling, warm, and spent. After they both caught their breath, Fen snaked her way around to lie next to Kady, snuggling into her as Kady wrapped her arm around her protectively.

In a few hours, they would need to start planning. Kady needed closure and Fen needed revenge, but for now, the rest of the world was tomorrow’s problem. Right now, the only two people who existed were lying next to each other, sweaty and naked, tracing lazy lines over each other slowly as they drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is mostly dead...put partly alive...


	11. The End - Take 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin keeps dying. Eliot ovaries up. Fen is very Fen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More divergence as our characters start collaborating. The next chapter goes along with this one but I split them up for reasons, so I will be posting that one soon as well.

Kady woke to find herself alone in the small bed. She cracked open her eyes, half expecting sunshine to assault them. The room was dim and cold. She turned her head toward the window and was surprised to see that it was still mostly dark, a slight prequel of dawn just beginning to dance on the horizon.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” came a bright voice from somewhere in the room. Kady sat up groggily, looking around as her eyes adjusted to the low light. She paused as her eyes passed along the end of the bed, finding Fen’s cheery face smiling up at her. Kady pressed forward and began to crawl over the bed toward the footboard, where she found Fen sitting on the floor, surrounded by a large chalk diagram of something, doodled directly onto the dusty wooden floorboards.

Kady yawned and shook the sogginess from her brain as she peered over the edge of the bed. “What time is it?” she asked.

Fen rose herself up to her knees and planted a quick peck onto Kady’s. “Nearly dawn,” she said, resting her forearms on the footboard of the bed as she settled her chin comfortably onto the backs of her clasped hands. She looked momentarily like a Renaissance cherub, resting on a cloud, as she looked up at Kady adoringly. “I woke up a while ago but you looked so cozy I didn’t want to wake you, so I just started outlining our plan of attack.”

Kady squinted to try and make out some of the chicken scratch that was scrawled all over the floor. She wove a hand through her hair and quirked her head to the side, trying to put it all together. “Um,” she said uncertainly, “Fen, these are all just stick figure drawings and hearts.”

“I like drawing hearts,” replied Fen in a slightly pouty tone. Kady gave her a questioning look. “Ok look,” Fen explained, “see this is the Man in Black. He’s going to help us…”

“Wait, what?” Kady drew back to sit on her heels, still perched on the end of the bed. “The guy who literally almost killed us? The dude we were lucky to escape from once? _That_ Man in Black?”

Fen rolled her eyes. “We weren’t _lucky_ to escape him. He let us go! So he can’t be _that_ bad, right? I mean, he has morals and everything…”

“He pelted me with _Skittles_ , Fen. Skittles. Who even does that?”

Fen bit her lip thoughtfully. “Someone who doesn’t want to kill innocent people without reason. Someone who knows how to think on the spot and come up with a plan! Besides, you said he was Eliot’s true love, right?”

Kady shrugged. “I mean, yeah, that’s what I’ve heard. So?”

Fen smiled. “ _So_ , we’re kind of after the same things, right? Dark King and The Captain bad, Eliot good…”

Kady eyed her suspiciously.

“Well, you don’t have anything better, do you?” Fen argued. And Kady, well…fuck, no she didn’t. “So we need to find him,” Fen continued. “He will have a strategy planned out in no time.”

Kady sighed. She hated that Fen was right. “Ok fine. So what are all these other figures here?”

“Oh!” Fen excited turned her attention back to the drawings. “Ok, so that’s me, and I’m killing The Captain with The Leo Blade. See, her eyes have X’s on them…” Kady smirked and rolled her eyes. “And this…this is Alice, who we are going to rescue…” Kady pressed her lips together tightly. Kady knew more about Alice’s involvement with The Dark King than Fen did, and if what Kady suspected was true, Alice wasn’t so much a “captive” as she was a shrewd businesswoman closing a good deal. But she let Fen continue.

“And over here,” Fen exclaimed excitedly, “is _us_. See…hearts!” Kady looked curiously at the two stick figures etched into the wood. Is that… _are we_ …”

“Scissoring!” shouted Fen. “We didn’t get to do that yet,” she sighed. Kady laughed out loud and hopped off the bed. She plopped down on the floor next to Fen and pulled her in for a sweet kiss, popping apart with a smile.

“You are ridiculous,” she said. “But ok, a semi-plan. So step one: How do we find The Man in Black?

Just then, a horrifying sound filled the room. In fact, it seemed to fill all of Fillory. It sounded like a man screaming, but more than just a scream. It was the deafening sound of a heart shattering as life escaped a living soul for the last time…

* * *

_A few minutes earlier…_

Todd poked his head into the archway leading to the Throne Room to see The King standing by a large table surrounded by maps.

“Todd!” The King waved him in. “Report.”

Todd looked at him with wide eyes. He always somehow managed to look terrified and pleasantly surprised at the same time. “Oh, um, yes. The Darkling Woods is emptied, your Majesty. Thirty guards protect the castle gate.”

“Double it!” Boomed The King. “My prince must be safe.”

Todd nodded. “The gate has only one key, your Majesty, and I carry that.” He showed The King a bright gold key that hung from a cord around his neck before tucking it securely back in place beneath his shirt. As he did so, Eliot stepped into the room, his dark, lifeless eyes flickering between the two men before settling onto The King.

“Ah!” exclaimed The King, walking toward him with open arms in a gesture of welcome. “My dulcet darling! Tonight, we marry. Tomorrow morning, every bunny in my Royal Colony will be sent to spread the good news of our union to the furthest reaches of our kingdom.”

Eliot straightened himself a little and tilted his head. “Every bunny but your four most reliable, you mean.”

The King looked at Eliot blankly for a moment.

Eliot repeated, “Every bunny but the four you sent, and are continuously sending, to reach Quentin on his ship…”

The King suddenly seemed to understand as he began to backpedal. “Yes…yes, of course. Naturally, not those four!”

Todd sucked in a sharp breath as he shuffled around The King, heading for the door. “Well, um, I’ll just…take my leave…uh, your Majesties…” He made a curt bow as he slipped out of the room.

Eliot stared down at The King with sudden conviction. “You never sent the bunnies,” he said, quietly, but firmly. Accusing. “Don’t bother lying.”

The King glanced off to the side, just slightly, before donning his usual air of superiority.

Noting the falter, Eliot continued. “It doesn’t matter. Quentin will come for me anyway.”

“You’re an idiot,” scoffed The King.

“Yes,” replied Eliot, louder now than he had been, “I am an idiot, for not having seen sooner that you were nothing but a coward with a heart full of fear.”

The King froze in his tracks. His jaw clenched as he gritted the words through his teeth. “I would not say such things if I were you.”

“Why not?” Eliot interrupted. “You can’t hurt me. Quentin and I are joined by the bonds of love. And you cannot track that. Not with a thousand wards or royal travelers. And you cannot break it. Not with a thousand blades and battle magicians. And when I say you are a coward, it is only because you are the foulest, most disgusting creature ever to crawl upon the soil of Fillory!”

The King lunged forward to grab at Eliot. One hand caught his arm while the other grabbed hold of his hair. Pulling hard, he dragged Eliot down the hallway, seething with anger. “I WOULD NOT SAY SUCH THINGS IF I WERE YOU…” he spat out, fuming with rage. He threw open the door to Eliot’s room and pushed Eliot inside. Slamming it shut, he locked it from the outside and ran out down the hallway, clearly on a mission…

* * *

…The door leading to The Pit of Despair was flung open as The Dark King flew down the stairs. Julia was sitting at the table, adding some notes to her book. Quentin was strapped securely into The Machine, as Julia prepared to give him another “treatment”. The King raced over to the table where Quentin was lying and spoke harshly to him. “You truly love each other,” he spat, “and so you might have been truly happy. Not one couple in a century has that chance, no matter what the storybooks say. And so, I think no one in a century will suffer as greatly as you will.” With that, The King spun around and began to push the lever up…up…higher…higher…

“Not to fifty!” Julia bounded to her feet and yelled…but it was too late. The King shoved the arm of the machine all the way up to 50.

Penny stood there, dumbfounded, frozen in place. Julia’s expression of horror slowly merged into one of piqued interest and morbid fascination as she watched the scene unfold before her. Quentin’s body arched almost supernaturally off the table as a chilling, growling shriek was ripped from his lungs. His body flailed back and forth, rattling the leather restraints. The table beneath him creaked and groaned, every ounce of strength Quentin had tugging on the straps that fastened his body to the rough wood. The sound grew and grew, amplified by the shape of the cave. Penny watched as what appeared to be a ripple of magic cascaded outward from Quentin’s chest and carried with it the sound of his own agony…out beyond The Pit, into the grove that surrounded them, and filtered out throughout Fillory. The sound of Quentin’s shrieks and screams fell like fog over miles and miles. Eliot cradled himself and covered his ears in his room. Children in the village ran to their parents. The sound baffled every resident in Fillory…save two, who sat on the floor of a small, broken down shack in the Darkling Woods…

* * *

“Kady!” Fen shouted as the sound filled the room. “Oh my gods,” she said, quietly, almost to herself. “Do you…do you know what that is?”

“No,” replied Kady, looking around to see if she could place the direction of the source.

Fen’s eyes lit up. “That’s the sound of ultimate suffering,” she said. Suddenly, she seemed lost in thought, dreamy and sad, “My heart made that sound when the six-fingered _murderer_ slaughtered my father.” She sat silently for a moment before coming back to herself. “The Man in Black makes it now.”

Kady looked confused. “What? How do you know?”

Fen stood up, excited and determined. “His true love is marrying another tonight, so who else has cause for ultimate suffering?”

Kady rolled her eyes. Fen reached down and grabbed her hand. “Come on, we have to follow the sound…”

“Fen,” Kady protested, “we don’t even know where it’s coming from?”

“Don’t bother me with trifles,” Fen said, stopping at the door dramatically to look back at her. “After 20 years, my father’s death will finally be avenged. There will be blood tonight!”

“God, you’re so fucking dramatic,” drawled Kady as Fen grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her out the door.

* * *

“How do we even know if we’re getting closer?” Asked Kady. “He could be anywhere.”

“His true love is marrying someone else, Kady. Someone who lives at Castle Whitespire. Obviously, he’s going to be closer to Castle Whitespire than we are…” Fen rolled her eyes again as they made their way into the Southern Orchard. “We’re getting closer…I can feel it.”

The walked through the orchard for a few more minutes aimlessly. Suddenly, they heard footsteps off to their left. Quickly, the two women hid themselves behind a pair of trees nearby. As the footsteps grew closer, Kady peered cautiously from around the trunk of the tree obscuring her. She let out a loud gasp when she saw a tall familiar man pushing a wheelbarrow full of supplies through the grove.

“Penny!” Kady blurted out. Fen’s eyes grew wider as she stepped out from behind the tree.

“Kady,” the name fell from Penny’s lips so gently she could barely hear it.

“Penny what…oh my god. Jesus I…I was so worried about you. I didn’t know wh-where you were or…or what had happened or…Penny I didn’t even get to say goodbye…”

Penny stood there silently, his jaw dropped open in disbelief. The two stood there, looking at each other for what seemed like ages. Suddenly, a small “ahem” broke the trance.

“Not to snuff out this candle or anything…” Fen said with a little too much forced merriment, “but we…kind of need to find The Man in Black its…sort of…we’re kind of in a hurry, so…”

“Shit, ok yeah, um…shelve this…” Kady shook herself out of her thoughts and tried to focus.

“The Man in Black?” Penny’s brown furrowed together.

“Yeah, um, it’s just…this, thing…we need to find him…”

“What’s his name?” Asked Penny.

“We...don’t know,” supplied Fen, “we know he’s here somewhere. We heard him screaming all the way in the Darkling Woods, so…”

“Wait, you heard him-”

“Screaming, yes,” Fen cut him off, frustrated, “so if you could just, step aside and let us go on about our business we would appreciate it.” With her head held high, she stepped decidedly past him and closed her eyes. “Now, I now he’s here somewhere. I can feel him. If I could just…concentrate…”

“Well, I mean I could-”

“Shush!” Fen barked. She turned back around to face away from him as she knelt down on the orchard floor. She began to, for lack of a better word, pray. “Father, I have failed you for twenty years. Now our misery can end. Somewhere…somewhere close by is a man who can help us. I cannot find him alone. I need you. I need you to guide my blade. Please father. Guide my blade…” She rose to her feet, eye still closed. Holding The Leo Blade out in front of her with both hands, she began to walk forward, swaying side to side as if it was guiding her, pulling her toward her unknown destination. She swung wide off to the right, then returned swiftly over to the left. Penny ducked out of the way just in time as she wandered blindly through the grove. Kady gave her a confused-but-slightly-disgusted look that only Kady could muster. Finally, Fen stopped swaying to and fro and halted, a small smile playing across her lips as she began to walk straight ahead. “This is it. This is the direction you need me to go, isn’t it, father? This is th- _ahhh_ ” Fen tripped over a root that was sticking up out of the ground and fell face down into the dirt. Her hopes shattered, she stood up and began to brush herself off. “It’s no use,” she began to sob. “We’ll never find him…”

“Yo,” Penny interrupted. She looked up to see him standing by one of the thick trees in the orchard. He pressed his hand to a knot in the tree and a small door opened up in the side of the trunk. “He’s down here,” Penny said with a wave of his hand beckoning them to enter. Kady shrugged and stepped through the doorway. Fen wiped away her tears, straightened herself up, and followed suit.

* * *

In the Pit of Despair, the three stood next to Quentin’s limp body lying on the table. Kady leaned over, listening for a heartbeat.

“He’s dead,” Kady announced sadly. Penny and Fen stared into nothingness. The air in the room was still and thick as hope slowly drained away.

Fen shook her head in disbelief. “It just isn’t fair,” she said. No one replied. After a beat, she pushed back her shoulders, and with a look of hardened resolve, announced to the room, “Well, we Walhburgers have never taken defeat easily.” _Walhburger_ , mouthed Penny. Kady shrugged. Fen began to stride confidently toward the staircase. “Come on, Kady. Bring the body.”

“The body? What the fuck?” Kady protested.

Fen didn’t stop, and Kady could see she had an agenda. Knowing when to fold ‘em, she shook her head and motioned for Penny to follow as she used telekinesis to hoist Quentin’s lifeless body onto her back.

“Have you got any money?” Asked Fen.

“I have a little, yeah,” said Kady.

“Good,” Fen replied brightly. “I just hope it’s enough to buy a miracle, that’s all.”

Penny rolled his eyes and followed them up the stairs.


	12. We're Off to See the Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brighthaven is shitty. Josh smokes some magical weed. Margo is not putting up with anyone's shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Drug use.
> 
> Margo is back! Along with Josh, in true Josh style. Margo is, of course, the bad bitch we all missed. A short little chapter this time, continuing from the last one. The group of would-be heroes keeps growing.

The trio found themselves in a small village full of run down cottages just South of Castle Whitespire. The village was largely empty, as nearly everyone was gathering outside the castle to celebrate The King’s wedding – which was fortunate for the small group since one of them was carrying a corpse on her back. Although, by the looks of their surroundings, that may not have been a big deal here…

“What the _fuck_ are we doing in fucking _Brighthaven?_ ” Penny said the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Fen answered absently, obviously distracted by her search, “We are…looking…for…aha! There!” She pointed straight ahead to a small hovel that was nearly overgrown with vines and weeds. She marched up to the door of the house. Penny and Kady gave each other a pointed look, but reluctantly followed her. Fen knocked heartily on the door.

“Go away!” Came an angry, somewhat nasally voice on the other side of the door. Fen pounded on the door once more. A small door – no more than 4-inches square – was nestled into the larger door, about eye-height. It opened quickly to reveal a pair of squinting eyes. “What? _What?_ ” the man inside barked.

Fen spoke up. “Are you Josh Hoberman, the royal chef and potions master who worked for The King at Castle Whitespire?”

“Before The Dark King took the throne and fucking fired me, yeah. And thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject. While you’re at it, why don’t you give me a nice paper cut and pour lemon juice on it? We’re closed!” With that, he slammed the little door shut.

Fen pressed her lips together and pounded on the door once more. The man opened the tiny door again.

“Beat it,” he said, “or I’ll call the Brute Squad.”

“I’m on the Brute Squad,” said Kady, stalking toward the door with the most menacing look of warning Fen had ever seen.

“You _are_ the Brute Squad,” the man said reverently.

“We need a miracle,” barked Fen. Then softer, “Please, it’s very important.”

The man regarded her for a moment. “Look,” he said, “I’m retired. And besides, why would you want someone the fucking King fired?” His eyes and countenance dropped. “I might accidentally kill whoever you wanted me to miracle.”

“He’s already dead,” Fen chirped.

“He is, huh?” The man considered for a moment. Kady turned slightly to show him the body on her back. “Ok, I’ll take a look. Bring him in.” With that, he swung the larger door open and let the party inside.

Once inside, Josh directed them to a table at the far end of the room. The house was lined with shelves full of potions, herbs, rocks, trinkets…random animal parts…each wall was covered floor to ceiling. The air was heavy and smelled like an odd blend of mint, nag champa, chocolate, and weed. It was a lot to take in. Kady plopped Quentin’s body face up onto the table. Josh studied him for a moment, then began carefully prodding and kneading his skin, slowly working along his limbs. The trio looked on for a few moments, uneasy in their surroundings.

Fen piped up after some time had passed. “Sir,” she said softly, “Sir…”

“Huh?” Josh replied.

“We’re really in a terrible rush,” she said.

Josh went back to his work, just as slowly. “Don’t rush me, man. You rush a miracle worker, you get shitty miracles…you got money?”

Fen nodded. “Sixty-five.”

Josh scoffed. “Seriously? I never work for so little. Well, except once. But that was…a very noble cause…”

“Oh this is noble, sir,” Fen assured him. “His wife is on her death bed. His children are on the brink of starvation…”

“Are you a horrible liar!” Laughed Josh.

Fen slammed her hands onto the table and leaned forward, looking Josh straight into the eyes. “I need him to help avenge my father, murdered these twenty years.”

Josh stared back at her, unimpressed. “Your first story was better,” he teased. He finally finished his examination and walked over to a shelf behind the table, looking for something. “Now, where’s that…ah!” Spotting what he was searching for, he grabbed what looked like a bong from a low shelf. “He probably owes you money, huh? Well, I’ll ask him.”

Fen laughed. “He’s dead. He can’t talk…”

“Oh ho ho, look who knows so much!” Josh replied haughtily. “Well, it just so happens that your friend here is only _mostly_ dead. There’s a big difference between being mostly dead, and all dead.” Josh packed a pinch of orange, glittery herb into the bong. “Now, mostly dead is slightly alive. All dead…well, with all dead, there’s usually only one thing that you can do.”

“What’s that?” inquired Fen.

Josh looked up at her with a smirk. “Go through his clothes and look for loose change,” he chuckled. The group was unimpressed with his little joke. Seeing that his joke fell flat, he shrugged and flicked open a lighter. “Open his mouth please,” he said. Kady eyed him suspiciously. “This is Dead-Man’s-Breath,” he explained, motioning to the sparkly herb. “One hit of this and he’ll tell us everything we need to know. Of course, him being mostly dead, he won’t be able to inhale it so I’ll…have to shotgun it…” Fen nodded to Kady and Kady cautiously opened Quentin’s mouth.

Josh leaned down to speak into Quentin’s ear. “Hey! Hello in there. Hey, what’s so important? What have you got here that’s worth living for?” Josh took a long hit from the bong then leaned over, closed his mouth around Quentin’s, and breathed the smoke into his lungs. Quentin’s stomach rose a few inches with the pressure. Josh pulled away and pressed down slowly onto Quentin’s stomach, forcing out a puff of smoke, along with a long, low growl that formed the words, “truuuuuuuue…lovvvvvvvve…”

Everyone in the room gasped. Josh pulled his hands back from Quentin’s body, obviously not expecting to hear those words.

Fen was the first to speak. “True love. You heard him, he said true love. You could not ask for a more noble cause than that.”

Josh nodded cautiously for a moment, stammering nervously. “Y-yeah, yeah, I mean, true love is one of the greatest things in the world. Except for maybe a nice panna cotta, with some wild blueberries and lemon curd…so fresh and light, but satisfying, ya know. I could eat that shit all day…but anyway, that’s not what he said, though. No, no he distinctly said, “to blave,” and as we all know, “to blave” means “to bluff.” So you were probably playing a game of push, and he cheated, and…”

“You motherfucking cowardly piece of shit.” A strong voice came from a doorway at the far end of the room. All eyes locked on a small woman who stood solidly with her hands on her hips, shooting the most deadly eye daggers at Josh that any of them had ever seen. Her long, dark hair draped around her shoulders, flowing into a mass of gauzy fabric cinched at her waist by a broad leather belt. She commanded the room as she stalked toward Josh, who suddenly looked as though he was about to vomit.

“Hey, Margo, uh, baby,” Josh’s voice was suddenly an octave higher. “I didn’t realize you were back already.”

“Oh I’m back alright,” Margo replied coolly, “and apparently just in time to see you completely nutsack-out on what might just be the most important job of your career.”

“Baby-”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me, asshole. After what I just witnessed, I’m not even sure I want to be your ‘baby’ anymore.”

“I…um…sweetheart, you don’t mean that…” Josh was speechless.

“True love, Josh. He said ‘true love’ and you fucking know it.”

“Please, honey, just don’t say-”

“Margo?” Penny finally jolted out of spectator mode to participate in the conversation.

Margo snapped her head in his direction. “Penny?”

Kady put her hand on Penny’s shoulder. “Wait…do you know her?”

Josh tried unsuccessfully to reroute the conversation. “Margo, my love, do you-”

“I’ll deal with you in a second,” Margo stated, putting her hand up in front of Josh to silence him. “Penny what are you- _Quentin!_ ” Margo gasped. She had finally gotten close enough to see who was laid out on the table before her. She didn’t even try to disguise the panic in her voice. “Quentin! What happened? Is he…Josh, we can…he isn’t…no, no the Dead-Man’s-Breath worked, right? He isn’t all dead, right? Josh? Oh Quentin…”

Josh jumped in quickly. “No, no! Mostly dead, is all. We can…I’m sure we can…” Margo shot him a stern look. Josh swallowed hard. “We can fix this.” He said.

“Damn right we can,” Margo said, though her voice was softer, almost soothing as she looked down at Quentin, lifeless on the table. A single tear managed to escape down her cheek before she wiped it away resolutely. “And you,” she turned her attention back to Josh. “You were gonna turn this down? After everything?”

“I, I-I-I uh…” Josh stuttered.

“He’s afraid,” Margo said, addressing their company but not taking her eyes off Josh. “Ever since The Dark King fired him, his confidence has been shit.”

“It’s not that, darling, it’s just…you know, it was a big job for me and I didn’t want to…”

“You didn’t want to what, Josh? Fuck it up? A life is expiring and you don’t even have the decency to say why you won’t help…”

“Honey, I just thought…”

“Listen for a minute!” Fen yelled with such authority that everyone in the room stilled, even Margo. “This is Eliot’s true love, right? If you heal him, he will stop The Dark King’s wedding.”

Josh perked up. “Wait so…I make him better, The Dark King suffers?”

Fen leaned forward and narrowed her eyes. “Humiliations galore!”

Josh looked pleased. He turned his head to see Margo giving him a death stare three inches from his face. His smile dropped. “I mean, obviously, I was going to heal him anyway because, you know, uh…but, I mean, it does _help_ , right? That doing so also…helps, uh…well, anyway. Yeah. Sorry. I’ll um, just…get to it then.” Margo quirked an eyebrow at him in agreement as the two of them got to work.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, the group sat around the table, hovering over Quentin’s body. Josh held a large lump about the size of a large jelly bean in between a set of tweezers as he painted what appeared to be chocolate over the surface. Fen, Kady, and Penny looked at it suspiciously.

“So that’s a miracle pill?” Asked Kady.

Josh nodded. “The chocolate coating helps it go down easier.” He said. “But you have to wait fifteen minutes for full potency. And you definitely shouldn’t go swimming after for at least, what? An hour?” He looked at Margo for an answer.

“An hour,” she replied, nodding.

“Yeah, an hour,” confirmed Josh.

“A good hour,” Margo supplied as Josh finished painting the pill. He waved it through the air a bit, drying it off, before placing the pill into a little bag and giving it to Fen. The team hoisted Quentin back onto Kady’s back and they headed out the door.

“Thank you for everything,” said Fen.

“You sure you don’t need help?” asked Josh.

“You’ve done so much already,” said Fen.

“Ok,” Josh sighed, “well, bye. Have fun storming the castle,” he called as they made their way back toward the castle.

“Think it’ll work?” Margo asked Josh once they were out of hearing range.

“It would take a miracle,” he said.

Margo shot him a look.

“Kidding, kidding,” said Josh, holding his hands up in surrender. “You know my work is flawless, baby.”

Margo smirked at him and gave him a quick wink. “Ok, now I’ll go grab Sorrow and Sorrow and we’ll follow behind them. Those dumbasses don’t stand a fucking chance without some help.” Margo spun around and headed back into the house. Josh followed her and began to gather up some supplies into a backpack. “Oh,” she called out, “and grab that jar of baby teeth.”

“Wait, what? Why?” Josh looked confused, but did as he was told and grabbed a small jar full of teeth off one of the shelves.

Margo appeared in the doorway, two menacing-looking axes fastened onto her back, a clay jar with a red stopper hanging from her belt. She smiled at Josh as she grabbed her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. “Trust me,” she said, “I have a plan.”


End file.
